Nodus Tollens
by EreshkigalGirl
Summary: (No-curse AU) When a young boy dressed in a night shirt and boots runs smack into Killian Jones, just back from 300 years in Neverland, the fearsome Captain Hook finds himself on a quest to rescue a princess, save a kingdom, and return all the happy endings—including his own. (CaptainSwan...eventually.)
1. The Boy

**Nodus Tollens:** The realization that the plot of your life doesn't make sense to you anymore.

When a young boy dressed in a night shirt and boots runs smack into Killian Jones, just back from 300 years in Neverland, the fearsome Captain Hook finds himself on a quest to rescue a princess, save a kingdom, and return all the happy endings—including his own. (CaptainSwan, rated T)

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of _Once Upon a Time_. This is story is not intended for profit, just as a tribute to the amazing writing, characters, and intricate plots therein.

 ** _A huge thank you to my wonderful beta, Willofthewisp! Her help has been invaluable, and working on making this fic the best it can be helped us both to wile away the summer hiatus between season 4 and season 5. Thank you!_**

 **Chapter 1—The Boy**

* * *

Some things never changed. The shoreline was different, but the lower-class docks remained a constant, even after more three centuries. The wood was perpetually damp with half the boards in various states of rot and disrepair. The air reeked from a potent perfume: the odor of dead fish, the high, almost sweet note of human and animal waste, the bitter tang of sweat, and the musk of damp wood. Gulls flew above, calling jeers at the humans below. The shouts and bellows of the dock workers—burly men, uncouth, gruff of manner, and generally lacking even a rudimentary education—created an organized cacophony of sound. It was all familiar, even if none of the men here recognize him or his ship on sight.

Probably for the best, that.

Killian looked down at his first mate. Dumpy little Smee was looking about as if this little piece of squalor was the prettiest sight he had beheld in ages. And truth to tell, it was. Neverland had been nothing but dense jungle surrounding a high, rugged mountain. There was one cove, but it had been irrefutably claimed by the mermaids. Only the foolhardy had gone there, and he'd lost six men to the mermaid's siren song and subsequent messy deaths.

And to his left, his quartermaster, Mr. Starkey, darted his shrewd eyes around the shops and stalls lining the main thoroughfare. Killian could hardly call it a street; it was more a swath of dirt with patches of filthy mud. Starkey was a trial at the best of times, but his little gimlet eyes always spied the best deals, and it had been a long while since the Jolly Roger took spoils. Their funds were limited.

Killian paused a moment and looked about. "Right. Smee?"

"Aye, Captain?"

"You take some time and do what you do best while Starkey and I find provisions." He leaned in to meet the little man's watery blue eyes. "I want to know everything we've missed while we've been gone. What kingdom is this? Who's in power? Who are their allies? Who are their enemies? And most of all, does the Crocodile still live, and where can I find him? Got all that?"

"Aye, sir." Smee nodded vigorously. "You can count on me."

"Of course I can," Killian said, smiling as if he never had a doubt. "Afterward, you can meet us at that charming little pub over there with the stuffed mutt mounted at the door."

"Aye, Captain. I'll meet you by sundown with the information."

"Very good, Mr. Smee. Mr. Starkey? Shall we?" Killian waved his quartermaster onward. He would allow his second to lead the way in this endeavor.

The next few hours passed in a tedious repetition of haggling and making delivery arrangements. Killian found his attention wandering often. It had been a very, very long time since he'd had a woman. For perhaps the first half-century in Neverland, he had spent his nights missing Milah. If he had felt the urge at all, he imagined her face when he used his fist to complete his business. But eventually, much to his shame and frustration, Milah's face began to fade. The details of her body blurred in his memory like an image seen through a smoke haze. And as much as he hated himself for it, the last dozen decades or so, he'd been inventing fantastical women of unlikely skin tones, excessive mammary features, or exceptional contortion abilities for his daydreams out of sheer bloody boredom. When even the men aboard ship started to look like visions of loveliness, Killian decamped to spend time on the island hunting Lost Boys, playing mind games with Pan—which were at least diverting—or getting drunk with the pixie. He'd even propositioned Tinkerbell a few times, but she'd always turned him down. Asexual little twits, fairies.

The women along the docks were hardly the women of his fantasies. They were too thin from hunger. The teeth that weren't crooked were missing. Their hair was dry and thin. These were ladies who serviced men out of necessity, and likely carried the taint of those affections in more ways than one. Killian had no desire to find himself itching and burning in his trousers a week out of port. Much as he longed for the comfort of a much-needed release, he intended to be a bit choosier.

Though the low neckline of the redhead winking at him from the upper floor of the tenement across the way was testing his resolve.

Finally—bloody _finally_ —Starkey said they had enough to make it long enough to get a decent haul with the next plunder, and they had guarantees of delivery the next day. The sun was setting behind the tall evergreen trees that encircle the open space of the dockside town. The shadows between the buildings were getting darker, and the looming forest outside of town released bats and assorted night birds to take the place of the seagulls and pelicans now bedding down for the night. Their duty fulfilled, the two men headed off to the Three-Legged Dog tavern for a well-earned pint or ten.

One particular whore, a woman whose hair might once have been dishwater blonde before she tried to lighten it, and was now a patchwork of shades between white and sulfuric yellow, seemed to have caught Starkey's eye and refused to let it loose. If the man kept licking his lips like that, they were going to wear off entirely. Killian eventually had enough of walking next to a panting hound distracted by the easy quarry in front of him.

"You might as well go get her, mate, before someone else does. She doesn't look like the discriminating type."

With another swipe of his tongue over his already lubricated mouth, Starkey nodded and gave a perfunctory, "Thankee, Captain," before he was off after the woman. Killian shook his head watching the ritual of price negotiation for time spent, and moved on. Had he been looking where he was going, he would have seen the boy come running out of the alley to his left.

The sudden impact of the lad caused Killian to stumble back, cursing. His arms windmilled ungracefully as he struggled for balance. He heard a grunt and the thump of a body falling to the ground.

When he finally managed to see what hit him, Killian found a young boy, maybe ten years old, sitting in a heap in the dirt. He wore a thick blue woolen bed jacket over a long white nightshirt with a touch of lace at the neck. On his feet were a pair of very fine boots, for all they were made small enough to fit his young feet. And while he was skinny, it was the lankiness of youth, not malnourishment. Clearly, this was no dockside boy.

"Ow," the lad muttered. He looked up at Killian with dark eyes and a startled expression.

Before Killian had a chance to do more than frown and open his mouth to berate the boy, the sound of jingling tack at heavy hoof-falls came from the forest, claiming the lad's attention and leading Killian's to listen closer as well. Squinting, he could just make out the appearance of mounted soldiers in full armor. Neither the faint remaining sunlight nor the weak torchlight along the lane reflected back from the blackened armor.

A choked sound drew his attention down. The boy pulled his knees up and got his feet under him. He looked around quickly, presumably for a place to hide.

What was a well-off lad like this doing hiding from knights?

The boy looked up at Killian again. He watched the boy's expression begin in panic before a gleam of frantic hope flashed in his dark eyes. The boy gulped and grabbed two fistfuls of Killian's long coat.

"Please? Hide me?" he begged.

Killian had spent the last few centuries becoming unfortunately acquainted with how conniving and vicious young boys could be. This could have been a trap. The lad could have pilfered what he now wore. Hell, the lad could have killed someone. The Lost Boys were proof that age alone did not define who was capable of murder.

But his instincts told him otherwise. This boy was truly frightened of the knights now breaking the tree line and making their way into town. Besides, who would steal nightclothes? And if he had killed someone, it would have had to be someone even younger than he. The boy was a slight thing. Even a knife needed some force behind it to sink deeply enough to kill.

His hesitation caused the boy to grip his coat even tighter, frantic.

"Please!"

He was so young his voice didn't even break. And there was something about his eyes, his shaggy mop of hair that reminded Killian of Baelfire. And the next thing he knew, he had extended a hand down.

"Up," Killian commanded, extending his hand. The boy grabbed it, and Killian pulled him up, twirling him as if it was a dance into a small crevice between a rain barrel and the wall of one of the shops. "Curl up. Cover as much as the white shirt as you can. Don't move. Don't breathe too loudly."

The boy complied, curling tightly into a ball, pulling up the long nightshirt, and wrapping the wool robe around himself. He even tucked his head down so that his pale face was hidden by his dark hair. Smart boy.

Now a diversion was needed. Killian scanned the streets, and as luck would have it, a lovely young lady with dark curls spilling from a haphazard twist at the back of her head and a very low neckline advertising her most alluring assets had just stepped out of the doorway of the bawdy house across the way. He caught her eye and smiled, leaning back against the water barrel and providing the boy with more cover. The woman returned his smile with one of her own and sashayed across the dusty street, skirting a murky divot along the wheel-ruts.

"Good evening, lass."

"G'd evenin', yoursel'," she greeted him, sidling close and looking him right in the eye.

"What's your name?"

"Sara," she said, tilting her head invitingly.

Quickly, he glanced up the street at the knights all done up in black: black tunic, black breeches, black armor, black boots, black cloak, black helm, and even the bloody horses were black or at least a very dark brown. He appreciated the color scheme, but even Killian was known to throw in some reds and blues. They had dismounted and had begun to accost the locals to interrogate them. They weren't far, but it would take them a few moments to reach him. He needed them to question him, dismiss him, and then go away, so Killian had to keep Miss Sara talking.

"Tell me, love, how is it a… _stunning_ creature such as yourself hasn't been claimed yet for the night?" he asked, reaching out to twirl a lock of her hair around his finger in emphasis.

She stepped right up into him, gazing up through thick lashes that might have only been slightly enhanced with lampblack or kohl, if she could afford it. Her hand landed on his chest, right above his heart, and she licked her lips. (She was good. No wonder she looked better fed than the rest of the professional ladies on the street.)

"Per'aps I 'aven't found anyone who I liked, yet," she purred.

"Do you like me, love?" he purred right back.

"I'm starting to."

"Why don't w—"

"You there!"

 _Finally,_ Killian thought. _Took you long enough, mate_.

He looked over to find the knight standing, waiting for their attention with one hand on the grip of his sword. Now that he was close enough, Killian could see the ridiculous, feather-like decorations on the helmet the knight wore. It looked like a rooster had been hit by lightning. If the man hadn't been so large and clearly capable of busting heads if not actually dueling them, Killian would have been tempted to laugh right in his face.

"Can I help you?" he asked the knight, giving the slightest impatient sneer to his question.

"I'm looking for a boy, ten years old, brown hair and eyes, last seen in his nightshirt yesterday evening," the knight reported. "Have you seen anyone matching that description?"

"Afraid not, mate. But then, I've been focused on company of the more adult female variety," Killian said, grinning and casting an indicating glance at his companion. Killian noticed that the beauty at his side had become noticeably quiet and tense as soon as the knight appeared.

"Are you certain?" the knight pressed. "His mother is extremely worried about him. There will be a reward for anyone who helps to return him to her."

Killian thought about it. But something didn't seem right with the picture this man was presenting. The boy didn't look like he was particularly interested in going with these men. It could very well be a lie that there was a doting mother waiting for the lad at home. And if there was a mother and these knights were returning him to her, why would the boy be so adamant about not being found by them? More likely, the knights were the reason the boy was on his own and on the run. And the mother, if she was still alive, probably wasn't the sort you returned a child to.

"Sorry, mate. Don't know what else to tell you. Haven't seen him."

The knight glared at Kilian as if willing the truth out. Since he had no intention of giving it to him, Killian just smiled.

"Can I get back to this now?" he said, tipping his head in the girl's direction.

The knight huffed. "Very well. But if you do see him, let one of us know. As I said, there will be a reward for finding him. And punishment for keeping him from us."

"Duly noted and quaking, I assure you," Killian said with a tight smile. When the knight stalked off, leaving Killian and his bird alone, he turned to Miss Sara and offered her a more natural grin. "Well, that was irritating."

She was still watching the knight walk off to accost someone else, and didn't answer.

"That happen often around here?" Killian asked.

"The Black Knights showin' up, or them lookin' f'r someone?" she asked, still subdued but now trying to shake off the experience.

"Either," Killian said. "Both. Take your pick."

"Yes," she answered. "And yes. The Evil Queen's knights come t' the docks on occasion t' make sure we all know whose kingdom we live in, as if we could forget. They don' gen'rally look f'r children, but they always find who they _are_ lookin' fo'. An' you don' ever see the poor bastard again, unless it's their head on a pike."

"So not the friendliest people, I take it?"

Sara took a deep breath, causing the round tops of her bosoms to rise and fall distractingly, and visibly cheered herself. She gave him a big, brave smile and went back to stroking his chest. "Unfortunately, no' all men are as friendly as you. Want t' be friendly t' me upstairs?"

Killian smiled back at her. "In a bit, love. I'm meeting my crew at the Three-Legged Dog for drinks. Care to join me?"

"O'course."

He leaned forward and gave her a soft, promising kiss on the mouth, slowly pulling away. Her eyes were closed and she licked her lips before those long dark lashes fluttered open. Oh, yes, she was _very_ good.

"You go on in, lass. Anyone else tries to claim you, you tell them you're waiting on Captain Hook—you got that?"

"Hook?" she asked, raising her brows.

Killian lifted the hook for her to see, prompting the second show of real emotion on her pretty face.

"Oh!" she blurted. Her eyes widened in surprise as the light gleamed off the polished metal. Thankfully, she appeared more startled than disgusted. Plenty of sailors and dock workers had injuries that the accommodating ladies of the area were no doubt used to overlooking.

"I'll be along shortly." He nodded for her to head on into the tavern. "I've a bit of further business to attend to."

She smiled at him and nodded. He breathed a sigh of relief as she went. Killian gave her a moment to get inside, casting one last flirtatious look behind her, before he scanned the street again to make sure the Black Knights were no longer close by. The street clear, Killian stepped away from the rain barrel and looked down at the huddling figure on the ground.

"They've passed us by for the moment, lad. Care to explain why the so-called 'Evil Queen' would send her knights after you?"

The boy carefully unfolded himself and stood, still using Killian and the barrel as a blind between him and the street. "It's kind of a long story. Thanks for hiding me, and for not telling them I was here. That Sara girl was right. The Black Knights would hurt you if they found out you lied to them."

"Then they best not find out," Killian said.

He studied the boy again, trying to figure out why the Queen would want him. The brute who had questioned him said his mother was looking for him. Now that he had a moment to breathe, Killian wondered: was the boy's mother the Queen? And if so, why was he hiding from her? True, the title of "Evil Queen" was a good enough reason for most to want to hide from her, he supposed, but her own son?

Killian again considered that this was a ploy on the lad's part. This could all be a ruse for the boy's enjoyment: gain someone's trust and then sell them out; watch them get taken away and executed for some sadistic pleasure. But he didn't think it was that. Killian trusted his instincts, and they currently told him the boy knew better than to play the kind of game that would get innocent bystanders killed.

Of course, knowing better and caring were different things. Pan was a boy, but he quite enjoyed playing games that ended in someone else's death. Some of his mistrust must have shown on his face because the boy scowled at him—a surprisingly adult expression on his young face.

"I didn't do anything wrong!" he insisted. "I swear it, on my honor." Then the indignant, mature look fractured and the scared child reemerged. "But if the Queen gets hold of me…it would be bad."

Killian believed him. He wished he didn't but he did. A long-buried sense of decency he thought he'd smothered to death when he sold Bae to the Lost Boys in return for a brief amnesty from Pan rose up and poured words into his mouth.

"There's nothing else for it. You'll have to come with me, at least for a bit. I can drop you off at a safe harbor down the coast."

The boy's eyes widened and his mouth popped open a tad. "R-really?"

"Aye," Killian said. Then he paused to think a minute. He couldn't take the boy back to the Jolly Roger now. He was supposed to meet Smee to hear about what the first mate had found out what they'd missed in this realm, and he couldn't bring the boy into the tavern with him, and he couldn't leave him out here to wait, not with the Black Knights still combing the streets. Besides, that idea brought back memories of his own childhood, waiting with Liam outside another tavern or inn while their father, on shore leave, drank and gambled and spent the money that was supposed to go toward fixing the leaking roof or paying off the credit their mother had used to buy food while he was away.

And then another tavern, another boy, another parent, another time rose steadily on the heels of his own boyhood memories, but Killian pushed those thoughts away even faster than the others.

No, he needed to get the boy off the streets, fast, and tuck him away where he wouldn't be found. The Jolly Roger was the only option. But without the captain there to tell the second mate that the boy had his permission to board—and possibly threatened him not to tell the knights still patrolling the town of the boy's presence—who knew what Mr. Bright would do? Killian open and closed his fisted a few times just to feel the restriction and rub of the rings on his hand while the pondered the dilemma.

He looked down at his hand. The rings. His crew knew his favored trinkets well enough to recognize the pieces on sight. Killian removed the thick gold ring on his index finger, the one with the ruby almost as big as his thumbnail. Milah had given him this ring after her first successful sacking of a merchant's frigate. "Here, take this. Go down to the docks and find my ship, the Jolly Roger—got that?"

"Yes, sir," the boy said, tucking the ring tightly in his little fist.

"Wait until the knights have already searched it—I'm sure they will—then go aboard. My second mate should be on deck. Give him the ring and tell him I gave you leave to board and you're to be taken directly to my quarters. Do not touch anything. Tell Mr. Bright that I'll be back before morning, and he'll be compensated for not going to the Black Knights with the information of your whereabouts. And if he even thinks about it, remind him of when Felix wanted Bright's own whereabouts, would have given me a dram of pixie dust for the knowledge, and still I hid him. He owes me."

"Jolly Roger. Wait for the Black Knights to leave. Give the ring to Mr. Bright and remind him about Felix. Go to your quarters and don't touch anything," the lad recited. "Got it."

The boy made a move like he might hug him, but Killian caught his shoulder. "None of that, now."

The lad's smile was bright and grateful. "Thank you, sir. Captain Hook. I'll never forget your help, and you won't regret it, you'll see."

"Mm," Killian hummed skeptically. "Just keep out of the knights' sight while you make your way. If they catch you, I'm still coming back for my ring. I'll say you stole it."

The boy had the audacity to look like he was trying not to laugh. "Yes, sir."

And with that, he was off, slinking into shadows and carefully making his way to the docks. He'd done this before, obviously.

That matter settled, Killian finally entered the Three-Legged Dog tavern, its taxidermied namesake standing at the door to welcome patrons, to await Smee and to reunite with…Sally? Sara! That was it, Sara. Bad form not to at least try to get her name right. He found her standing beside the bar, nursing a tankard and subtly fending off the attention of two other patrons without driving them away entirely, in case Killian didn't show up. She smiled when she saw him enter and he insinuated himself between the woman and the men attempting to steal her. One good glare and the men departed.

"Hello, love. Sorry it took me so long."

She snuggled into his side as he wrapped his left arm around her, careful of the hook. "I'm glad y' found me."

"Always, love." He signaled the barkeep and ordered a flagon of whatever the house brew was—probably watery, barely-fermented barley water, but that was fine with him. Later he would purchase a few bottles of rum and whatever else they had hiding, waiting for the few high-paying customers that might stumble into this little dive, and take the bottles back to the ship to get truly pissed in private. For now, he was loath to let his guard drop that much in the presence of strangers in a land he no longer knew.

With his own tankard in hand, and his left arm still around his lady for the night, Killian led them to the table already inhabited by several other crewmen. A game of dice was being played against a few other customers of the Three-Legged Dog, and the men shouted and cursed at every roll. His crewmen made room for them on the benches, and Killian was just about to ask to take a turn himself when Smee sidled into the tavern. Killian had to keep himself from rolling his eyes at his first mate. The man never simply walked anywhere, much less strode or—heaven forbid—sauntered. No, Smee always seemed to sidle or skulk or scurry, as if he was just waiting for someone to throw a shoe at him and make him leave. Not a single ounce of self-determination in that one.

"Smee!" Killian called out, waving the man over. As soon as the first mate took a seat, he asked, "What have you learned?"

"Well, Captain, we're currently in the kingdom of Saint-George," Smee reported, leaning in and ducking his head deferentially. "They mostly trade in timber and fur, though they used to have a deal with the dwarves in the Seven Mountains for gems. That trade agreement was broken about a decade ago. The kingdom has gone through two coups in the last thirty years. The first time, King George VIII was defeated by his own son and the Prince's new bride, but no one was complaining. Apparently King George had driven the kingdom deeply into debt. He liked an extravagant lifestyle, according to rumors. I heard one tale that the Prince himself was cut from the same cloth as his father before he nearly died fighting a dragon. Then he met his wife, Snow White, the princess from Terrapomuria who was on the run from her step-mother at the time, and he turned himself around. People loved King James and Queen Snow White as rulers."

"Snow White?" Killian asked. "Is that actually her name?"

"I…I'm not sure, Captain," Smee answered, smiling a bit in hope he won't be blamed for not having the information.

Killian grunted and waved him on with the story.

"Well, the new king and Snow White managed to get the kingdom out of debt and ruled for about twenty years, but then they were overthrown by Queen Regina of the Northern Kingdom, also known as the Evil Queen, when she allied with the deposed King George... who for some reason had been let live after he was defeated. Things have been pretty bad around here ever since."

"I met some of her knights earlier," he said.

"King George died shortly after the overthrow—some say murdered by the Queen when he outlived his usefulness, and she's been ruling Saint-George and Terrapomuria as protectorates of the Northern Kingdom ever since. She has a tentative alliance with King Midas, who had a spell placed on him that anything he touches with his bare hands turns to gold."

Killian raised his eyebrows at that. "I like gold."

"Ain't as wonderful as you'd think," Sara interjected. When he looked at her, she shrugged. "Y' can't eat gold."

"Ah. True, lass, true." He nodded. "I'm assuming that King Midas's gift is a boon for the upper class, but not much for the lower classes?"

"Sounds right," Smee agreed. "His kingdom is rich in metal wealth, but poor in food. They're surrounded by high, rugged mountains on all sides, and the valleys are mostly sandy, rock-strewn, and pine-filled. They have to trade for food, and not much trickles down to the peasants. I've heard some say that the kingdom awaits the day Midas dies and his daughter Abigail and her husband take over, hoping they will be more benevolent."

"Mm. Any other allies or enemies?"

"King Thomas the Elder of the Eastern Kingdom is one definite enemy of the Evil Queen. The Prince, Thomas the Younger—who the Dark One kidnapped somehow—and his wife were good friends with Snow White and King James, and the Eastern Kingdom has done its best to oppose Queen Regina ever since she took over. Same thing with Queen Aurora and King Phillip in the Great Western Kingdom. They have their own problems with an evil sorceress, and they're doing everything they can to keep the Evil Queen from expanding further than she already has."

"All very interesting, but let's move on," Killian said. "Tell me about the Dark One."

He felt Sara stiffen at his side, pulling away slightly, more frightened now than she was of the Black Knights. Killian can almost hear her wondering just who she had engaged for the night.

"It's actually pretty interesting," Smee said. "The Dark One was _here_ , in this kingdom, trapped in a cell converted from an old dwarven mine for almost the entire reign of King James and Queen Snow White. They managed to capture him somehow."

Killian loosened his hold on the girl and leaned across the table, wanting to get as close to this information as possible. He felt his heartbeat start to pick up, and his mouth hardened. "Locked in a cell—is he still there? Why didn't he break out? I would have thought no power in all the Realms could hold the Dark One if he didn't want to be held."

"No one knows, sir," Smee reported, shaking his head. "The old man who told me about it just said that he was tricked, somehow, and he spent years locked away in a cell that dampened his magic. But during the Evil Queen's coup, he escaped and he's kept a low profile since, except for a vicious running feud with the Queen."

Killian hummed in thought, his thumb running across his mouth. He was now in something of a conundrum. The enemy of his enemy would normally be his friend. But the Evil Queen (he was starting to like the moniker; descriptive and dark) was also sending knights after a small boy that Killian had decided to take in. A dilemma, indeed.

"Anything else of interest?" he asked Smee.

"No, sir, not much." He shrugged. "There was one rumor that the Dark One briefly had a housekeeper—some princess taken as payment in one of his deals. But there are a few different stories about what happened to her. Either way, she hasn't been seen since before the Dark One was captured. Nothing else, Captain."

"Fine," Killian said. "Well done. Enjoy your night." He turned to the ladybird beside him with what he hoped was a charming smile masking his internal frustration and bloody-minded rage. "And I will enjoy mine. How about we go upstairs now?"

Sara smiled back and stood, pulling him up with her, and led him out the door.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** If you've noticed, most of the kingdoms in the Enchanted Forest never get a name on _Once Upon a Time_. King Leopold, in 3.18 _Bleeding Through_ , does mention that Princess Eva, to whom he is betrothed, is from the "northern kingdom." I've decided to use that as the kingdom's name, i.e. the Northern Kingdom, and then just made up names and general locations for the other kingdoms, so those kingdom names are not canon. Just clarifying.


	2. The Call to Adventure

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of _Once Upon a Time_. This is story is for entertainment purposes only and not intended for profit, just as a tribute to the amazing writing, characters, and intricate plots therein.

 **Additional Disclaimer:** Also in this chapter I humbly borrow the term "Oldest Old Thing" from Mercedes Lackey's Elemental Master's series. She calls Puck (borrowed in turn from Shakespeare's _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ ) the Oldest Old Thing in the British Isles. I just love the term, and from what Moraine tells Baelfire in Season 1, the term can apply to the Blue Fairy, as well.

 _ **Once again, major thanks to beta Willofthewisp for all her help!**_

 **Chapter 2—The Call to Adventure**

* * *

Killian spent a lovely three and a half hours with the delectable Sara—who truly was as good as her flirtation promised—and left her with enough coin to pay her madam for room and board, and still have enough left over to buy herself a treat. He'd been tempted to give her a few coins to cover the time she'd spent talking to him and sitting with him when she could have been procuring other customers, mindful of his dedication to Milah and his concern about disease. But he'd been alone for three hundred years, and when she had pulled him into the dark alley between the Three-Legged Dog and her bordello to kiss him and grind her hips into his own in hard, suggestive circles, his body made up his mind for him. It had been a very long time for Killian, and he had had a lot of energy to expend. While the first round had ended embarrassingly quickly, he made up for it several times and flattered himself to think he didn't leave his partner unsatisfied, despite her being paid to make those lovely moans and shouts of ecstasy. He genuinely hoped she wasn't _that_ good an actress.

Making his way back to the docks, he kept an eye out for any Black Knights still haunting the area. He had no idea how long it would take them to search the entire town, and he hoped they had already been to his ship and gone. _And_ that Mr. Bright had honored his debt to his captain by keeping the boy's presence to himself.

Just as he set foot on the wharf where the Jolly Roger docked, he spotted one of the Knights speaking with another sailor. It was not Mr. Bright, thankfully, or any of his other men. He slowed his gait as much as he could, making himself appear more drunk than he was so he could catch a bit of their conversation.

"Already tol' you, ain't seen no boy like y'r describin'," the sailor said, a belligerent note in his voice.

"I'm reminding you, there's a reward in it for you if you have," the knight replied, his smooth accent much different from the sailor's. "Now, are you sure you haven't seen him?"

"I'm sure. You want a brat t'take home, you c'n grab any one of the little gutter rats what run 'round 'ere durin' the day, snatchin' from an honest man's haul. You take one'o them, an' _I'll_ reward _you_."

The knight sighed. "If you do see the boy, please report it. He's not quite right in the head. He is intent on inciting rebellion in the kingdom. Now, you don't want that, do you? Another war? I'm sure you remember the last one."

"Aye, I do," the sailor affirmed, nodding his head. His voice clearly indicated that what he remembered was not to be spoken of. Only the worst memories can leave that tone in a man's voice: loved ones lost, horrifying battles, massacres, plague, and terror.

"So if you see the boy, you'll tell one of us," the Black Knight instructed. "After all, I'm sure you'd hate to be accused of plotting treason and the ruin of Her Most Gracious Majesty, Queen Regina. Would you?"

"No, sir. I wouldn'."

He's heard enough. Killian, thankful for his customary black clothing, blended in well enough with the night that he was able to nearly disappear into the shadows until the Knight passed him by. Then he made his way up the gangplank of the Jolly Roger to find himself facing his second mate. Mr. Bright chewed the ends of his long mustache in annoyance and stalked forward to meet him as soon as he had a foot on deck.

"Cap'm," he muttered (Bright's only mode of communication.) "A boy came aboard, and he had your ring, and he tol' me you said to remember the time in Neverland when that hellion Felix had it out for me, so's I let him into your cabin, a'cause that was what the boy tol' me you was tellin' me to do. But so's you know, I don't fer sher know t'was you tellin' me. So was it you? A'cause if not, I'll go below meself and drag the little whelp out by his heels and toss him o're the side."

"No need to worry, Mr. Bright," Killian reassured him. "I sent the lad here with the ring specifically so you _would_ allow him aboard. And before you ask, yes, he's the lad the Black Knights are searching for. From what I overheard, he may have some knowledge that would damage this queen of theirs."

"Don't that make him a rather dan'jrus guest, Cap'm?" Bright asked.

He rested his hand on his sword-hilt and gazed back toward the forest that pushed up against the outer buildings in the town. "Personally, I don't have much love for royalty of any stripe. If this boy can stick a finger in a royal's eye, I'm only too glad to give what assistance I can." He glanced back at his second mate. "The boy will only be aboard a short while, and he'll work for his keep, never you worry. Now, I'm off below for the night. In the morning, we have deliveries coming in. We'll set sail in the afternoon as the tide is going out."

"Aye, Cap'm," Mr. Bright said.

Killian snapped out an arm and grabbed hold of the man's stained and sloppily-tied cravat, pulling him close. "And, just so we're clear, you're not to leave this ship while I'm asleep, and you're not to breathe a word to the Knights, should they reappear, or to any crewman about the boy's presence until we're safely out of the harbor, or you'll wish that Felix had found you. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Cap'm," he said, gulping. "Aye, Cap'm, it'll be as you say."

"Good." He released him, patting down the wrinkled cloth. "Have a nice night, Mr. Bright. I shall see you in the morning."

"G'night, Cap'm."

Killian went below deck to his quarters under the forecastle. A light shone from the keyhole and beneath the doorframe. As he opened the door, the boy popped up out of the seat he had taken at Killian's table, the oil lamp upon it lit and illuminating the room in soft gold light and throwing deep shadows into the corners. He closed the door, shucked his coat, and hung it on a wall peg before he raised his brows at the boy expectantly.

"Thought I told you not to touch anything."

"It was the only chair in here," the lad pointed out. "And I needed a light so that I wouldn't accidentally bump into anything. I promise, those were the only things I touched."

A quick glance around told him the boy was telling the truth. Even the maps and charts on his desk looked untampered with. "Fair enough. How about you sit back down, and we'll discuss what's going to happen?"

The boy hopped back into the chair and Killian settled himself on the edge of his desk, looking down at him. The lad looked at him expectantly but without a hint of worry. Killian could not decide whether that meant the lad was extremely brave or if he actually was touched in the head, as the knight had indicated.

"First things first: your name?"

"Henry," the boy answered promptly, and that was all. No family name, no title was forthcoming. Just Henry. Very well, Killian could work with that.

"Henry, then. Here is what I propose." Killian leaned forward to better look the lad in the eye. "I am willing to take you, as promised, to the next kingdom and drop you off if you so wish. That could take several weeks. While aboard, you will serve as cabin boy, which means that you will be at the beck and call of any crewman who needs assistance. I don't tolerate laziness or insubordination, so that means you will be working very hard."

"I understand," Henry said, nodding. There was a glint in his eye that warned Killian that the boy thought this was all a grand adventure, and there was nothing Killian could say to talk him out of it. He wondered if he had ever been that young. The thought alone made him feel old.

"There is one condition to my helping you," Killian warned, holding up an indicating finger. Now Henry looked cautious. "I overheard one of the Black Knights say that you had some information that was damaging to the Evil Queen. Is that true?"

Henry kept his mouth shut for a moment while Killian waited him out, never breaking eye contact, until finally the lad sighed and admitted, "It's…sort of true."

"And that information could bring about her ruin?"

"Not…exactly…but kind of."

Now Killian sighed and leaned back. "You're not exactly a wealth of information, lad, you know that?"

"Sorry." The boy sounded genuinely regretful. "It's just…this thing that I know…it's big. Really big. And even though you helped me—and I'm grateful, really!—I don't know you. I don't know if I can trust you. And this—what I know—it will change everything. And I'm not supposed to know it. If she found out, and if she found out who told me…"

For the first time, Henry looked truly frightened. Even when the Black Knights were chasing him, he hadn't appeared as afraid as he was now. Whatever bit of information the lad had managed to overhear, it scared him, which sent Killian's mind wandering through all the possibilities: could it be a political secret to be sold to an enemy, revelation that the Queen's coffers weren't as golden as they may appear to outside trading partners, a broken agreement with an ally, or something even worse, something Killian couldn't even fathom?

"Lad, I won't take offense at your distrust if you won't take offense at what I have to say." Killian again leaned forward, only this time, he let a bit of his own steel and fire show through, and Henry nodded. "I need to know exactly what I have aboard my ship if I'm agreeing to transport it. I learned the hard way in the past that people with secret agendas lie to those they're sending into the breach for them, and I'll not have what happened before happen again. You can either tell me what you know and I can make the decision to help you, or at least take you to the next port…or I can throw you off my ship now. Those are your choices."

Henry's eyes widened, flicking back and forth to Killian's as he weighed the captain's sincerity. "It's not—"

"You tell me, or you go," he reiterated.

The boy gulped. "All right, I'll tell you. But…please!" Henry leapt from the chair and stood before him, his hands clasped and imploring. "Please, you can't tell anyone!"

"You have my word," Killian agreed, his curiosity deeply piqued.

"I'm on a quest."

"A quest?" he repeated. "It must be terribly important for you to leave your home in the middle of the night, not properly dressed, with no provision, no assistance lined up, and just expect everything to work in your favor."

Henry sighed and blurted, "I have to find and rescue the cursed Princess who is destined to defeat the Evil Queen and restore all the happy endings."

Killian waited a beat, sure that there would be a further explanation. When none was forthcoming, he frowned and rubbed his eyes. "Repeat that, please?"

"I have to rescue the Princess who is destined to return all the happy endings," Henry said. Seeing Killian's disbelief, he took a bold step forward. "I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. She's been cursed for years. If I can rescue her, she can defeat the Queen, and then everything will be better! Everywhere! All the happy endings that have been taken from people will be restored."

All the happy endings…it sounds like a child's tale, and it was being told by a child. He wanted to scoff. He wanted to tell Henry that he was imagining things, his clearly overactive imagination running away with him. He wanted to let the boy down gently, tell him that there were no happy endings.

But hadn't he once, long ago, been young? Hadn't he once needed something to believe in, that life could be more than the daily drudgery that made up his own days as a cabin boy—a virtual slave—aboard the merchant ship his father had abandoned him on? Wouldn't a young Killian have gone to the ends of the world to rescue a princess, especially if it meant that not only his own but "all the happy endings" would be realized?

Even if it was a lie, even if it was a childish fantasy, Killian had given his word to take the boy to the next safe harbor.

"Come lad, there are extra blankets and pillows in the crew's dorm." Killian stood, and he motioned for Henry to follow him. "You can bunk down in the corner for the night. Tomorrow, after we leave port, I'll assign you a room with the crew."

Together, they found two tattered old blankets that Henry would be able to layer so that none of the holes overlapped, and a pillow that smelled a bit like wet goose and camphor. Henry curled up in the corner of Killian's room, his eyelids drooping before they have the bed made. The lad had clearly been on the run for at least a full day, and was exhausted. He fell asleep in moments, and Killian quietly removed his vest and boots, placed the boots beside his bed, and turned the wick of the oil lamp down to smother the light. He easily made his way to his bed in the dark, not quite trusting fate enough to remove his hook, and fell into his own deep slumber.

* * *

The lad had been on his ship for nearly a week now, and Killian had to admit, he liked the boy. Henry was intelligent, eager and quick to learn, and full of the enthusiasm and hope that only a secure and mostly-happy childhood could engender. Killian could not help wondering if he had been wrong about the Evil Queen being Henry's mother. Surely someone with that dubious honorific couldn't bring up a child as happy as Henry appeared to be, but Killian wanted the boy to be more settled and likely to trust him before he pressed for more concise answers.

So who then could have raised a boy that the Evil Queen would go through so much trouble to find? A servant, perhaps, who was privy to the Queen's secrets, told them to her son, and now had paid the price? Some courtier or knightly father? Those choices seemed more likely the longer Killian knew the boy.

Killian watched Smee take the boy around the ship, showing him his duties. Today Henry was learning how to find and repair cracks, warps, and holes. The lad was dressed properly for the work he was doing, as well. He still wore the nightshirt he had arrived in with the sleeves rolled up high to free his hands, but it was now tucked into a pair of striped hand-me-down trousers that had been ripped off at the knee on the former owner. They fell halfway down Henry's calves. He still wore his own boots, though, unaltered.

From his place at the helm, he watched Henry handle the clucky planer against a rough warp on the starboard deck. Killian expected the boy would likely end up with a few splinters before the day ended, not that it would likely dampen his spirits. He wondered at the lad's energy. He could no longer remember his own childhood clearly save for a few painful, crystalline memories that usually remained in their tightly sealed boxes in his mind. He could not remember ever being so boundlessly enthusiastic about anything. The Lost Boys had a certain manic quality to their play that masked their cries at night. The only other child he had ever been around for longer than a skirmish had been older, already fifteen. Perhaps that had something to do with it; Baelfire had been on his way to manhood by the time Killian met him properly. Henry was still very much a child. Bae had been more focused and serious; Henry saw everything as an adventure.

And speaking of adventures, what about this quest the boy professed to be on? Killian still had more questions than answers. Firstly, where did Henry hear about this cursed Princess? What was the curse? Why curse her and not kill her if she was meant to destroy the Evil Queen? Personally, Killian could understand murdering an enemy or potential threat. Cursing her and therefore allowing her to have a chance to avenge herself seemed sloppy and careless—bad form and bad planning. But then he wasn't a sorcerer. He preferred the direct approach.

"Henry!" he called to the boy.

Henry looked up from his attempts to level out the warped wood. "Yes, Captain?"

"After you're done for the day, report to me before dinner. I want a word."

Had it been any of the men, they would have been shaking, wondering what they'd done to merit the Captain's scrutiny. Henry just nodded, gave him a quick salute, and returned to work.

Killian had heard only good of the lad from his crew. They were glad to, at least temporarily, hand off some of their more mundane chores to the boy, and Henry was eager to try his hand at any task in return for passage out of his kingdom. He was glad the men hadn't questioned his taking in the boy. They were all wary of youth now in a way they hadn't been before Neverland. Bloody savage little buggers, the Lost Boys were.

That evening, Killian sat at his desk, going over old maps of the coastline, comparing them with the one sketch of the coast he and Starkey had been able to find that was drawn less than fifty years ago. A quick, rhythmic knock sounded on the door, and he knew immediately it was Henry. He leaned back in his chair and called out, "Come in, lad."

"How did you know it was me?" Henry asked as he shut the door behind him.

"Shave and a haircut?" Killian asked, raising a brow. "Not one of my crew, even in their most whimsical of moods, would knock on the door to my cabin with 'shave and a haircut.'"

Henry laughed as he came to stand before the desk.

"So," the boy asked, "what did you want to see me about?"

"A few things. Firstly, we'll be landing in a day or so; where are you headed to begin your quest?"

Henry frowned, his gaze going distant as he thought. "I'm not sure."

"Do you even know where this Princess of yours is located?" Killian pressed. "Or were you just going to wander around and hope you stumble across her?" He tisked his tongue and shook his head. "You don't have any plan at all, do you?"

"I have a plan!" Henry protested.

"What is it then?" Killian pressed. When Henry hesitated again, he leaned forward. "Lad, you have very few options. You can either tell me where to drop you—or better yet, tell me just what you're planning, so I can help you—or you can stay aboard my ship for as long as it takes you to figure out how to sneak off because even I am not so heartless as to abandon a child in a strange city with no idea of where he is going."

Killian allowed that thought to impress itself upon the lad as he settled back against the worn leather of the armchair. He shrugged and clasped his hand around the curve of his hook in his lap. "I'm sure you'll be able to manage your escape eventually. But who knows how far we'll be from your goal when you do find a way to leave this ship? And until then, you'll be worked like a dog as the junior-most member of a pirate crew. Take your pick."

He allowed Henry the chance to think it over. When the boy finally spoke, Killian found himself surprised.

"You'd help me on my quest?"

He hadn't expected the lad to latch onto that particular piece of his speech. Killian certainly hadn't meant to make the offer, hadn't realized he _had_ offered even as the words had come out of his mouth. But now, given a chance to think about it, Killian realized he was sincere. He had been a sailor for most of his life, and he had seen many strange and unaccountable things throughout the lands of the Enchanted Forest and the distant Realms he had travelled to. A cursed princess capable of restoring peace and happiness to the land was a bit of a stretch, true, but it was no harder to believe a scorned sorcerer could turn a man into an animal as punishment, or that hearts could be removed and crushed to dust. And while he had no interest in defeating the Evil Queen—he wanted no business with anyone royal, malevolent or otherwise—he did have a decided interest in his own happy ending. He could think of nothing that would make him happier than to have the Dark One, that sniveling little coward hiding behind a fortress of dark magic and stolen skill with a blade because he was too craven to fight for what he wanted when it mattered, dead at his feet, all his power stripped away.

If he could find someone to help him achieve that end, he would offer any assistance needed.

"Aye, lad, I'm willing to help, if I can. Especially if there's a reward in it for me." He raised a finger when Henry looked as if he was too happy to forestall any overeager sentiment. "But I'll not let a child wander around alone if I can help it, not without a plan. You've given me little to go on. You won't say where you're headed, how you plan to get there, or what exactly you plan to do once you find the Princess, if she indeed exists. A plan with that many holes is sure to fail."

"It's not that I don't have a plan," Henry said. "It's just that I'm not sure how to get where I'm going."

"And that is…?"

Henry rolled his lips together, obviously hesitant to divulge too much. Which was ridiculous, Killian thought. Had he done anything to merit that amount of suspicion from the boy? From many others, yes, but from Henry? No. Especially after he'd practically just promised the boy aide in this quest.

"I hate to point this out, mate, but most adults are not going to help you," Killian tried to reason with him. "They are going to see a child all alone trying to play at being a hero. Frankly, I'm not sure I'm seeing anything different."

The boy's offended, hurt expression slowly changed from an affronted belligerence to a quiet caution. It gave Killian the opening he looked for. He put as much sympathy and camaraderie into his face as he could muster. "You could try giving me the story from the beginning: where did you hear about this Princess, and how can you be sure she's even real?"

Henry sighed, his shoulders slumping, and he walked forward to rest his elbows on the desktop. Killian nearly swatted at him and told him to not touch. The lad had no sense of personal boundaries. But since it appeared that he was finally going to get some answers, he kept quiet.

"One of the Queen's Black Knights told me," Henry admitted. "He wasn't always a knight. He used to be a huntsman, but the Queen took his heart years ago for failing to kill Snow White, like he'd been ordered. That doesn't make him evil! But because the Queen controls his heart, he has to do what she orders him to do."

At the mention of the Queen taking hearts, the memory of the Crocodile reaching into Milah's chest and ripping hers out rose to his mind. Milah's death had come quickly after. Killian went cold at the thought that the monster could have made Milah a slave had he not been so hasty to kill her, and Milah would have been powerless to do anything by obey. The implications of what the Crocodile could have done to her sickened him.

"I believe you, lad." Killian pulled his flask of rum from the desk drawer and took a long swig to fight down the bile that had risen up the back of his throat. The warmth of the alcohol replaced the sour taste in his mouth, and he was able to breathe again. "But how would this knight, or huntsman, or whatever he was, know about the Princess?"

"He said he was there when she was cursed," Henry explained. "He told me that the Queen made him watch as punishment for failing her. He'd let Snow White escape, and then presented the Queen with a doe's heart, trying to trick her into thinking Snow was dead. Then later, he helped Snow White's True Love, Prince Charming, escape from her dungeon so that he could rescue Snow from a sleeping curse the Queen had put her under. But this time, the huntsman would be powerless to stop her. He had to stand and watch as the Princess was cursed, and there was nothing he could do to stop it or help her. So instead, once I was old enough, he told me."

 _Ten years old is old enough?_ Killian wondered. And if he had been confused about whether Snow White was a nickname, he had no such confusion over "Prince Charming." A more ridiculous title he'd never heard.

"Do you know what kind of curse the Princess is under?" he asked.

Of course, Henry shook his head. "Not exactly. Some kid of transformation. The knight said that he was frozen in place to watch. The Princess was engulfed in purple smoke, and suddenly there was a flash of wings, breaking glass, and the Princess was gone."

The way Henry spoke, it had the ring of a tale memorized and fantasized about. That didn't make it true. Even one whose life has been touched by magic in various forms must be wary of hoaxes and wild tales told to children to get them to sleep at night.

"He could simply have been telling you a story, lad," Killian pointed out. "Have you thought of that?"

"No." Henry shook his head. "It's true."

If he had wildly defended his storyteller, jumping up and down and throwing a tantrum at Killian's continued skepticism, he might have been able to write Henry's belief off as a child's naiveté. But the boy was calm and somber in his insistence, and that is what made Killian truly believe him. Whatever this huntsman had told the boy, he had been telling the truth, and he had imparted it with such gravity that Henry could now translate it in his own story.

"So the Princess got away," Killian mused. "Good for her. Still no idea where she went?"

"North, I know that much," Henry said. "She was in the mountains when the curse was cast. She probably stayed close by. What I really need…" He drew a deep breath. "What I really need is to find the Blue Fairy. She lives deep in the forest, and she knows everything, and she always helps those who are pure of heart. If I can get her to help me, the rest will be easy."

 _I doubt that, lad_ , Killian thought. But why crush his enthusiasm? Besides, it was a start. Even he had heard of the _Reul Ghorm_ —the Blue Star. Fairies in general were known to be helpful sorts on quests and adventures in landlubber stories. The winged ladies never ventured to sea, as far as he could tell, but forest dwellers swore by them. And the Blue Fairy was their leader, the oldest old thing in the Enchanted Forest.

Aye, if anyone could help them find a lost princess, it was she. And if anyone could be said to be pure of heart, it was Henry.

And now he was thinking in terms of "them," was he? Clearly he had already made up his mind to help the boy, and there was no use pretending otherwise. As with most of his important decisions, it had been half vague inclination and half sudden impulse. His course was set. Now the winds would take him where they would.

"Then I suppose we're off to find the Blue Fairy," Killian concluded. "That means the Infinite Forest. North, you said?"

Henry's face lit up. He bounded around the desk and threw his arms around Killian, causing him to stiffen and try to jerk away, but the boy squeezed damn tightly for such a spindly chap.

"Thank you! Thank you, thank you!" Henry chanted.

"Get. Off. Now." Killian finally managed to extricate himself. "Didn't I tell you there would be none of that?"

Even the rebuke wasn't enough to wipe the relieved smile off Henry's face. Killian scowled at him and adjusted his vest to hang properly again after Henry's mussing. It has been a long time…a very long time… since anyone had offered him unaffected warmth. He was no longer used to it, and the boy could bloody well keep his hugs to himself.

"Now then," he cleared his throat, shifting his seat, "do you know your geography?"

"I know some," Henry confirmed.

"Take a look at these maps. Where is the best place to dock to begin the journey inward? Preferably a port not loyal to the Queen and where a ship can dock for long period safely."

Henry looked down at the maps and traced the coastline with a finger. "I know that this is the border between Saint-George and the Eastern Kingdom."

"There appears to be a natural harbor here," Killian pointed to a dimple in the inked coast. "And where there's harbor, there is generally a town. It's as good a place to start as any. We can make it there in a week or so."

"Great!"

"Now that we have that settled, you head on down to the galley to get dinner, then catch some rest. You're still earning your keep."

"Yes, Captain," the boy responded, smiling again at him like he was the boy's own bloody hero.

Henry scampered out of his cabin like he didn't have a care, and shut the door behind him with a last wave goodnight. Killian nodded in return, and as soon as he was out of sight, he took another long drink of his flask. They would have a long journey ahead, and he never had known the interior of the Enchanted Forest as he did the ocean surrounding the many little kingdoms. He needed all the liquid fortification he could get.

* * *

 **Note:** Thanks to those who reviewed with the Blue Fairy's older name from the show!

Now, I'm going to put this notice here and see who spots it. I'm sure there are a few canny readers out there who will take notice, but to avoid unnecessary confusion, if the plot of this story becomes increasingly familiar, there is a good reason for that. My original title was going to be "The Swan Princess," but then I did a little research. Just go up to the Search bar on FF-Net and you will find: 601 total stories titled or referencing "Swan Princess," 235 of which are TV shows, of which a full 212 are OUaT fics, 207 are in English, 187 feature Emma, and of those, 122 are Captain Swan. So I needed a title that was more original, but the plot was indeed inspired by the fairy tale/ballet of _Swan Lake_ more so than the 20th Century Fox cartoon movie (though I do still like that version.)

Bonus points: who's old enough to remember the original Anime cartoon movie "Swan Lake" from the '80's where the prince was still named Siegfried before they modernized it into Derek for the 1994 version?


	3. Searching for a Fairy

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of _Once Upon a Time_. This is story is not intended for profit, just as a tribute to the amazing writing, characters, and intricate plots therein.

 **Author's Note:** So in this chapter, I tried to find a somewhat logical explanation for the flukes that shooting a television show throughout about nine months between western Canada and a soundstage in California can do to weather consistency, and what a concise storyline makes necessary when plotting how the characters get from point A to point B in hours when it should take weeks. The answer? _It's magic_. And once again, I'm sort of borrowing a little from Mercedes Lackey, this time her _Five Hundred Kingdoms_ series. Also, there is a mention of one of the _Arabian Nights_ tales and _The Hunchback of Notre Dame_. Credit where it's due, and all that.

 _ **And speaking of credit, muchas gracias to my wonderful beta, Willofthewisp!**_

 **Chapter 3—Searching for a Fairy**

* * *

His men were not at all happy about being discharged, albeit only temporarily. Their displeasure (presumably out of loyalty to _him_ ) bothered Killian some, but it was his ship, damn it, and he'd be buggered by the lot of them and marooned on a sandbar before he left the Jolly Roger in the care of his crew without his own strict supervision. Besides, he had promised them he would return in a few weeks, two months at most, to collect them. So when they put into port, his crew—including a protesting Mr. Smee—disembarked and disbursed to places unknown.

Killian and Henry worked together to sail the Jolly Roger to the secluded harbor they had chosen on the map. It wasn't far from the port in which he had left his crew but small enough that the scant amount of plunder he had was enough to bribe the harbormaster to keep an eye on his girl for the time it would take to go north and come back. Killian added a threat for good measure. He had found that when a man had the sharp point of a hook next to his eye, he was far more likely comply.

"Ready, lad?" Killian called out to Henry from his cabin as he slung his satchel over his head. He'd packed a compass, his spyglass, some bandages and ointment in case of injury, a few spare shirts, the map, a scrap of black cloth he could use as a scarf if they came across colder weather, his whetstone, oil, and polish to clean his hook and sword, and his flask of rum, which was possibly the most important thing. Other than the clothes on his back, that was all he deemed worth taking.

Killian heard a soft grunt followed by a strained, "Ready!"

He found Henry in the hall outside his bunk. The lad's overburdened pack clearly dug into his young shoulders and caused him to have to bend slightly forward to remain upright. Killian raised a brow and shook his head. "You'll topple over before we make it to the road. Just what do you have in there?"

Henry shrugged, or tried to. "A little of everything. Some food, canteens of water, some extra weapons, a few maps I drew of where I think we should start looking, a tinder box and flint, a hat…"

Killian didn't know whether to laugh or scold him. Apparently Henry had no clue about how to prepare for a journey. First he had left home in his night clothes with nothing but the boots on his feet. Now he overcompensated by packing everything that crossed his mind.

"Empty it out, lad," Killian ordered, pointing to the now bare bed. Likely the boy had packed the sheets and pillow as well. "Let's see if we can pare this down a bit so you don't end up a hunchback."

"I know a story about a hunchback," Henry said as he pulled the straps of the knapsack from his shoulders. "He was a hero."

"I know a story about a hunchback, too," Killian told him. "He choked on a fishbone and died, causing quite a funny chain of events as everyone tried to cover up his death."

"I've never heard that one," Henry said with some excitement. "You'll have to tell me on the way north. It'll help pass the time."

Now Killian did laugh. Henry was easier to entertain than Bae had been. Another difference between childhood and youth, he supposed.

He signaled Henry to dump the contents of the pack and stood back as a veritable arsenal and nearly an entire pantry tumbled out. The boy had clearly raided the galley by the looks of some of those knives, to say nothing of the food itself, and a small soup pot. There were also two pistols and shot though no powder, Killian noted, a small crossbow—he didn't know who it belonged to or why the crewman had it; it certainly hadn't been used that he could remember—bolts for the crossbow, and a garrote. Surely Henry couldn't know what _that_ was for.

"Are you planning a siege?"

Henry shrugged again. "I'm not sure what we'll be up against, so I wanted to be prepared."

"Aye, but we also need to be practical," Killian advised. "We don't have money for horses, which means we'll be walking unless we can hitch a ride or steal some mounts." He ignored the boy's frown; exactly what did he think pirates did? "We need to be able to cover a good distance without tiring. True, there are places in the Infinite Forest where distance sort of…" he waved his hand as he grasped for a term, "pinches together or loops back on itself. I don't really understand it, but you can cover vast distances in hours that should take you weeks, if not months. But they move about, so you can't count on running across one when you need it. So we pack light and resupply later, as needed."

Henry nodded, seeing the sense.

Killian helped him repack the knapsack. Left out were all of the weapons, including the garrote—which thankfully Henry had assumed was for cutting cheese. Also discarded was a nearly full oil lantern, several of Henry's self-made maps, and most of the cooking implements. Back in went the canteens and food: dried meat and fish, hardtack biscuits, some apples, cheese, and a pilfered soup bone that the cook was going to be even angrier about than the good knives. Also packed were the tinderbox and flint, the little pot, the hat along with another "borrowed" shirt form one of the skinnier crewmen, and two of the knives.

"Try it now."

Henry shouldered the much lighter pack, tested the weight by bouncing his shoulders a bit, and nodded, smiling. "Better."

"Good. Now let's go. Dawn broke a half hour ago, and we've got a long day ahead of us."

Killian led him up the stairs to the deck and motioned Henry ahead of him, down the gangplank. While the boy waited, he took one last farewell of his ship. The Jolly Roger was his home, his mission, his reminder of the past, and the only love he had. And he felt an unsettling foreboding that he wouldn't be seeing her for a while longer than he was expecting. Or that he wouldn't be the same when he did. He felt as if he were saying goodbye forever.

Which made no sense. There was no reason for such maudlin sentimentality. Whatever happened, he would be back for the Jolly, one way or another. He could not imagine anything that would make him abandon his ship permanently.

But then, the last time he had felt like this, he tried to talk Liam into leaving the bloody Dreamshade alone, and getting the hell out of Neverland. It was that same creeping anxiety that something was not right that itched under his skin now. Something was about to happen, and it would affect him in ways he could not imagine.

He glanced down at Henry, and wondered this boy was the herald of his doom the way Pan had been for Liam.

Henry innocently looked back, shifting from foot to foot as he waited. "Are you coming?"

"Aye, lad." Killian shook himself. He wasn't his brother. The moment things went south, Killian would leave, abandoning the boy if necessary, though that would be his last resort. He had certainly done it before, after all.

"Let's be off."

* * *

They left the little town behind within an hour. It wasn't much more than a fishing village on the edge of the Forest, and soon even the little paths used by the villagers to collect firewood and set snares to supplement their dinners disappeared, and Henry and Killian were in the deep woods. Two hours later, they found a little stream, refilled their canteens, and pulled out some of the jerky and hardtack to gnaw on before hunger forced them to stop entirely. After refilling, Killian suggested they follow the stream backward to its source since it was flowing southward and their destination lay to the north.

Henry had, as promised, demanded Killian tell him the story of the hunchback who choked on a fishbone, which amused them both for a while, and then he reciprocated by telling Killian of the heroic hunchback who lived in a bell tower and saved a gypsy girl from an evil cleric who wanted to burn the devil out of her. Then Killian told a tale known to most sailors about the sirens of the deep, and Henry repaid him with a story about the knights of the kingdom of Camelot, which had fallen to its own darkness a generation ago. He seemed to enjoy tales of the heroic, chivalrous trope.

"So, tell me more about this princess we're off to rescue," Killian said. It was mid-afternoon now, and in a few hours, they would need to consider a place to stop and make camp for the night. But until then, they may as well keep their game going.

"Well," Henry started, fighting through some of the thicker brush along the edge of the stream. "I think I already told you she's the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, didn't I?"

"You did," he confirmed.

"Snow White and her Prince were great and benevolent rulers," Henry recited, as if it were the beginning of a tale. "But they were more than just leaders who sat on their thrones as figureheads. They were warriors who had defeated the wicked King George in battle. They were cunning and tricked the Evil Queen so that she could never personally hurt them. And they were compassionate enough that they gave even a villainess a chance to redeem herself. They even out-smarted the Dark One and locked him away for years."

"Locked him away, you say?" Smee had already told him as much, but Henry seemed to have some interesting tidbits about recent history that the first mate may not have been able to uncover in only a few hours. Killian tried for nonchalance as he pressed on. "How did they do that?"

"Something about a magical quill," Henry said. "But I'm not sure about the details."

Blast. Not more than Killian expected, but a shame not to have more information. Still it was more than he had before. And if the Crocodile could be trapped once, perhaps he could be again. And perhaps a quill would once again prove more capable than a sword when confronting the Dark One.

"He got out, though," Henry continued. "When the Evil Queen's army attacked the castle, all of Snow White and Charming's forces were called back to defend them, leaving the Dark One's cell unguarded. Somehow, he escaped."

"Bad luck, that."

"I guess." Henry did not sound particularly bothered by the Dark One's escape. "Anyway, the Princess is their daughter. Before she was born, there was a Prophesy made. A dark curse that was going to engulf the entire land loomed over the whole Enchanted Forest, but no one knew when it would strike. And the only one who could break the curse was the Princess. She would be the Savior and return all the happy endings."

"So the Dark Curse broke, but then the Princess was cursed?" Killian guessed. "Or was she cursed to prevent her from becoming the Savior?"

"Neither," Henry said, shaking his head. "The Dark Curse never struck, and no one knows why. One day the forest was buzzing with magical potential, and the animals were terrified. And the next day, it was like a storm on the horizon just broke up and disappeared."

"Your friend the knight offered no insights into why that might be?" he asked, lifting a stubborn branch high enough that Henry could pass beneath it.

"He didn't know either," the boy said. "He just knew that one day the Queen was ready to cast the curse, she went out into the Thorny Wood to meet with her allies, and the next morning, nothing." Henry took a turn holding a shrub back as Killian passed, taking the opportunity to smile up at him and shrug. "He told me that he was out of favor at the time, so he wasn't around the Queen much."

"Ah. Guarding the chicken coop, was he?"

Henry laughed and they continued on.

"So why curse the Princess, then?" Killian asked.

"It was years later," he explained. "The curse never happened, but the Evil Queen still hated Snow White. She was prevented from killing Snow or her family because of a spell placed upon her kept her from hurting them directly, so she teamed up with King George, who had been banished after his defeat, and they mounted an armed attack. The soldiers broke through the castle defenses, and although the forces of good fought, they were defeated. But the Princess had been sent into hiding. When the Queen found her, the spell that kept Snow White's family safe stopped Regina from killing the princess."

"But she could still curse her," Killian finished. "That explains it."

"So you see, the power to _be_ the Savior is still in the Princess," Henry insisted. "She still has the power to bring back the happy endings. And we could use some."

"The defeat of the Evil Queen?"

"That," Henry said, nodding. "And others. Thomas the Younger of the Eastern Kingdom is still missing, and Thomas the Elder has practically banished Princess Ella because he blames her for his son's disappearance. She hasn't been allowed to see her daughter in years."

"Plus the Dark One running amok and ruining lives," Killian added.

"Exactly! And in the Great Western Kingdom, the sorceress Maleficent still terrorizes the countryside as a dragon whenever she gets bored of hiding in the Forbidden Fortress. You hear stories about families separated, scattered or imprisoned, all the time. It's got to stop!"

Killian looked down at Henry's outburst. The expression on his face—the same as when he had worn when he insisted that the knight who had first told him of the Princess was telling the truth—made the shriveled remains of Killian's heart ache. It was the look of someone who had seen too much in too short a time to really process it: half sad, half angry, and willing to do anything in his power to stop it. Killian knew the look. He'd felt it on his own face. He had seen it on Baelfire's. Killian had to wonder if all of Henry's enthusiasm and good cheer was, at least partially, a mask. He wondered if there wasn't more to this boy than he had first thought.

 _Likely_ , Killian thought. _After all, what do I really know about him?_

"You're right, lad," he agreed. "It has to stop."

Henry stopped a moment. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, resettling his shoulder, or more likely the invisible weight atop them. When he opened his eyes again, the troubled look had passed, replaced with determination.

"And we're going to stop it," he piped. "Or, well, the Princess is, but we'll rescue her, and then she'll rescue us."

"Reciprocity," he mused. "I like it."

They trudged onward a few more minutes without talking. Then Killian was forced to ask, "How exactly do we rescue her?"

"I…haven't gotten that far yet," Henry admitted with a sheepish grin and shrug of his shoulders. "I was hoping that the Blue Fairy could tell us exactly what kind of curse the Princess is under, and how to break it."

"And if she doesn't know?"

"Well, I've always heard that True Love's Kiss could break any curse."

"You planning on falling in love, mate?" Killian teased.

"No! Ew!"

Henry giggled, actually giggled, and shook his head. Only a ten-year-old would laugh at the idea of kissing. It had been so long since Killian had teased anyone without it being spiteful, so long since he'd been at all lighthearted, that Henry's reaction made him laugh, too. And once it started they fed off each other. As soon as one began to get some control back, he glanced at the other and they were both off again. It hurt. It felt good. It had been far too long.

* * *

Seasons were a funny thing in the Enchanted Forest. Like time and space, they didn't always follow logical rules in the deepest parts of the never-ending forest. It was one of the reasons Killian vastly preferred the ocean to the interior. Weather on the ocean was more predictable in terms of what you could expect a given month out of the year. He knew he could find frigid, icy squalls to the north, crashing thunderstorms in the east, deadly hurricanes and typhoons to the south and the west, and doldrums at the boundaries. Unfortunately, no such logic dictated the Enchanted Forest.

He and Henry had left the Jolly Roger in what Killian took for late spring—a bit brisk in the morning, but warming quickly to make their trek uncomfortable by midday. They had since passed through one section of forest carpeted in white violets and other blossoms of early spring shortly after lunch. And right as they were ready to make camp, a snow storm started in what moments before had been a balmy summer evening.

"Brilliant," Killian muttered. "Bloody fantastic. We'll be making a quick camp tonight, lad. We need shelter, and fast. I've no idea how long this snow squall will last, but we best be prepared for a cold night."

The most sheltered spot they found was under the lowest branches of a giant pine. The long boughs trailed down over a hollow that some beast had excavated, possibly for the same purpose he and the lad would use it for. Killian was a little worried about starting a fire, however. He knew pine pitch was flammable; it was what made his own deck and hull into a potential tinderbox if there was so much as a renegade spark. But he was more worried about them freezing to death, so a fire was required. Killian didn't know the forest well enough to say with confidence that the storm would pass quickly and summer weather would be upon them again. So he and Henry scavenged dry wood from their shelter and pulled out the flint from the knapsack.

"Put on that extra shirt while you have that open," Killian instructed as he used the flint and his hook to strike a spark and coaxed the dry pine into as large a flame as he dared, which unfortunately was not high. He comforted himself that there was already plenty of snow they could use to dowse the flames if they got too big.

He parted the branches to create a chimney that was hopefully large enough to keep the needles and twigs away from floating embers, but small enough not to let too much snow or wind into their shelter. Henry pulled on the extra shirt and placed the pack over his stomach to help hold in heat. Killian pulled out one of his own spare shirts from his satchel. He had to take off both his leather coat and his vest in order to put in on, which he did as quickly as possible, then replaced them with all speed, buttoning each up as to his neck. He and Henry huddled together with their backs against the trunk of the pine and nibbled on cheese and apples pulled from the knapsack.

"Any idea how we contact the Blue Fairy, lad?"

"In the stories I've heard, you have to find the Blue Star and make a wish, then she'll come to you," Henry said.

Killian frowned. "No chance of finding a clearing in this storm. We'll have to try again tomorrow night, it seems."

Henry pursed his lips together and hummed in thought. "I wonder…What if I tried just wishing really hard right now?"

"No clue, mate," he admitted. "I try to avoid magic of all ilks. I've seen the damage it causes up close. I prefer not to get entangled with it personally if I can help it."

"You've seen the damage that _dark_ magic can cause," Henry corrected him with a knowing smile. "Good magic doesn't harm people. Good magic comes from love, and love cannot hurt people. I think it's a rule."

Killian found himself again smiling at the boy's naiveté and optimism. It seemed almost ridiculous that this boy had managed to escape the Queen in the first place—however it was he had done so; likely with the help of the Black Knight who had told him of the cursed princess. And then he had found Killian, a pirate who had spent centuries fighting boys not much older than he, and who had no reason to believe the lad or want to help him, and yet somehow Henry had been gifted with the ability to win others to his cause. Perhaps there was some magic in the boy that Killian didn't understand. If there was, it must be this good magic Henry spoke of.

"Go ahead and try then, lad. It can't hurt."

Henry smiled wider, then took a breath and closed his eyes, his face scrunching in the effort to wish as hard and as loudly as he could.

With nothing better to do, Killian closed his own eyes. He didn't bother to wish. Even if the Blue Fairy could hear, he doubted she would come to aide his plight. His purpose was much darker than Henry's, and Killian was certain that a creature of good magic such as Henry had described would not aid a pirate seeking revenge, even if it _was_ justified. Instead, he quieted himself, as much as he could here in what seemed like a truly foreign environment. It was easier for him to find peace on the water with open air on all sides of him, the endless blue-green-grey of the ocean reflecting the sky, each with their ever-changing moods, watching the flickers sunlight off of the ripples of waves. If he concentrated, he could feel a warm southerly wind on his face and the smell of salt and warm wood on a hot day.

He remembered the first time he saw a ship, days before his father had abandoned him, years before he had lost his brother and his faith in royalty. But even the reminder of his father's desertion could not quash the memory of his excitement and awe at stepping onto the _Mary's Bonnet_ , feeling the way it rocked slightly with the waves in the harbor, the bustle of the crew, and the way the mast and furled sails had seemed to be straining for release into the open ocean. He remembered graduating from the naval academy, top of his class, one of the youngest men to achieve the rank of lieutenant. And then his brother, who had graduated only a few years before and was already out making a name for himself, had requested _him_ , Killian, to join him on a special mission for their king. It had felt like the beginning of a great quest, just as it felt now, beside the boy. It had all ended terribly, of course, but for a brief few weeks, as they had made preparations, and as Killian had inspected the men chosen to accompany them, he had been full of righteousness and joy and courage and hope.

Once upon a time, he had been a man who would have been worthy of the Blue Fairy's help.

"Look!"

Henry's shout startled him out of his waking dream, and Killian's eyes popped open to see what the boy had spotted.

"The storm is gone," Henry pointed out. "The sky is clear. We can try to find the Blue Star!"

Henry quickly scrambled out of their little den, leaving Killian to stare at the patches of star-flecked sky he could see through the weeping branches of the pine. He used his hook to pull back the snowy twigs around the chimney he'd made for the fire and saw that Henry was right. The sky was clear, and a warm breeze brought the smell of flowers and fresh soil into the space around the evergreens.

"Well, I'll be damned," he murmured.

Likely, it was a fluke of the Enchanted Forest, a sudden fluctuation of magic banishing winter just as it had earlier shifted from summertime in an instant. But Killian had already admitted that he didn't understand magic or how it worked. Perhaps there was some good magic bent on helping the boy. A part of him hoped so. Another part of him actually believed it.

Killian dampened the fire to embers before he followed the boy out. He didn't want their shelter catching on fire, but it still was still too cold to do without one entirely. Once the fire was banked, Killian crawled out after Henry and found him not far away, staring up through a window created by the treetops surrounding a small clearing, just big enough for a few little ferns and shrubs to grow around the perimeter. He had heard of fairy rings, but he had never seen one before.

Henry craned his neck, looking up and all around the visible sky.

"Do you see the Blue Star?" he asked.

Killian tilted his head back and searched, but he didn't know exactly what he was looking for. He had studied the stars at the academy. Even as a boy, he had been fascinated by them. As a navigator, he was exceptional, if he did say so himself. But, from the stories he knew, the Blue Star wasn't really a star, certainly not one you could find your way by, so he had never bothered to learn much about it. That decision had been made for practical reasons at the time—why bother studying a star you couldn't navigate by?—but now he wished he had taken the time to learn at least a bit. What did it look like? How bright was it? About which area of the sky could it be found?

There were several stars that might be right. There was a blue one a little way to west, but it wasn't very bright. Shouldn't a fairy's star be bright? There were one or two bright stars almost directly overhead, but one was a pure white and the other had an almost lavender cast to it.

"I'm not sure, lad."

"It must be here somewhere!" Henry insisted.

Once again, he scrunched his eyes shut and appeared to be wishing with all his might, but Killian had no idea if it would work without knowing exactly which star was the Blue Fairy's. Bloody hell, he didn't know how this worked! So, in an effort to be helpful, he cast his gaze back to the sky and searched. His eyes settled again on the bright, purplish star. It wasn't blue, but perhaps it was close enough. He desperately hoped so, if only so that Henry was not disappointed.

A soft humming caught his attention from behind them. Killian had his hand on his hilt, his sword half drawn, before he turned to see what made the sound.

"Oh, dear," a soft, feminine voice murmured anxiously. "Oh, this hasn't happened in ages."

It took him a moment to find the owner of the voice. He had been searching for someone human sized, but a faint glow of the same periwinkle light that shone from the star overhead illuminated the figure of a tiny woman in a wide dress with trailing streamers of fabric. And wings, of course. Mustn't forget the wings.

This was the first time Killian had ever seen a fairy—a true fairy. Tinkerbell didn't count, what with the disgrace and banishment. No wings.

She was pretty in a piquant, gamine sort of way. Once she was close enough that he could see details through the glow around her, she wore a pink dress, heavily festooned with rosettes and sparkle. She wore a diamond necklace in a Y-shape around her neck. Her dark hair was piled atop her head in bun with curled tendrils framing her face. From the back of her head, little crystalline aerials emerged to catch her light and scatter it about her face. Her wings, like a dragonfly's, Killian thought, fluttered far more slowly than he expected.

The fairy wrung her hands as she approached. Her wide mouth was pinched and her eyes troubled. Killian felt his own anxiety begin to climb.

Henry, however, didn't seem to notice anything was wrong at first. He rushed forward to meet her, his ever-present upon his face. He stopped almost directly beneath her, looking up, and almost breathlessly asked, "Are you the Blue Fairy?"

The whine of her wings rose a pitch as she shook her head.

"I'm sorry," the fairy apologized. "I'm not. I wish I was, but I'm just not. She's not well, and doesn't leave the Meadow at all anymore."

"What?" Henry asked. "What happened? I didn't think fairies got sick."

"She's not sick, exactly," she explained. "She was injured, and it affected her magic. When Queen Snow White and King James's forces rallied at the castle against the Evil Queen, the Blue Fairy went to Rumpelstiltskin's cell to guard him. When he broke out, she was injured. Even now, she's very weak. We all hope that one day she'll fully recover, because fairies live so long, you see? But so far…"

"If you're not the Blue Fairy, lass, who are you?" Killian asked. "And why did you answer our call?"

"I'm Nova," she said with a dip in her hovering reminiscent of a curtsy. "It was my star you were wishing on. That one there." She pointed to the bright start that Killian had set his sights on, wrongly apparently. "I'm sort of the Blue Fairy's secretary, and I take her calls while she's…recovering." She shook her head, making the crystal tantalizers bobble. "No one has tried to contact her in years. Most people know already that they won't get the help they need. I'm so sorry. "

"But…you're a fairy," Henry pointed out, rather redundantly. "Can't you help us?"

A sad smile flashed on her pretty face. "To be honest? Probably not. I'm not much of a fairy, as these things go. Ever since the Evil Queen defeated Snow White, and the Dark One escaped, evil magic has ruled the land. The mining of the fairy dust has slowed to almost nothing, and without the dust, fairies are almost powerless to affect anything outside of ourselves. And what's available isn't enough to do anyone much good."

Henry's disappointment was obvious. His shoulders slumped and the look on his face was enough to make even a hardened heart break. Killian, bracing himself for more defeat as well, turned back to the fairy.

"Do you know anything about this cursed princess we're trying to find?" he asked.

"She's the daughter of Snow White," Henry added, a note of desperation in his voice. "She was cursed, transformed, and she's gone into hiding."

Nova pursed her lips in thought.

Killian held up his arms in something like supplication, a charming smile on his face. A fairy was still female, after all. He could even occasionally charm Tink. Perhaps Nova would be as accommodating. "Any help at all would be a boon."

"I know who you're talking about," she admitted. "But I'm afraid I have no idea where to find her. Transformative spells are definitely the Blue Fairy's realm of expertise. I'm more in the redemption and last resort business."

She focused her gaze on Killian and smiled a sweet, shy little grin. "It's why I could hear you when you wished on my star."

"Because we're in need of a last resort?" he joked, his shoulders tightening at the other option.

"No, silly," she chuckled. "I can see into your heart. I know the man you started as is still in there, buried. I might not be very powerful, but I can see that this quest is important to you. This is a turning point, and you're going to have to make some hard choices."

"You've the wrong man, I'm afraid," Killian said. "I don't particularly feel the need to be redeemed. I know my path. This quest is a deviation to achieve my own ends, nothing more. As soon as it's complete, I'll be on my way."

"So you say," the fairy replied. Her smile was knowing, almost sly, but not at all malicious. It was a far more intelligent expression than he would have given her credit for, with her bubbly laugh, her high-pitched voice, and her constant apologizing.

"Anyway," Nova continued, once again speaking to both of them. "All I know about the Princess is that she escaped the Evil Queen, and flew away beyond her reach. The Blue Fairy would be able to tell you where she is. Or the Dark One," she added, sputtering a laugh. "He knows everything, or seems to. But I just don't have that kind of power, I'm afraid."

She took a deep breath, sadness overtaking her.

"To be honest, I'm struggling to keep the fairies going, especially with both the Dark One and the Evil Queen having it out for us." She shuddered and wrapped her arms around her middle. "They both kill any fairy they see on sight, if we're lucky. Thistle and Merriweather are missing… People are starting to lose their belief in fairies, which means that our power would dwindle even if we did have enough fairy dust. We're creatures of magic. If mortals stop believing in us…"

"Then that's all the more reason we _have_ to find the Princess," Henry said, his determination returning. "Only she can fix things."

Nova smiled at the boy. "Looks like there's a prospect for last resorts, after all. I'll tell you what: fairies have entered battles before, and if there is any chance that we can help restore belief and happy endings to Enchanted Forest, I know my sisters will help." She flittered closer to him. "If you two can find the Princess, wish upon my star again, and I'll come and bring whatever aide I can. You have my word."

The boy smiled back, though it was more subdued than before.

"We will," Henry promised.

"Best of luck," Nova wished. Then, with another meaningful smile at Killian, added, "To both of you."

They watched the fairy fly back up through the break in the treetops toward her star. If Henry's face was any indication, he was feeling the same disappointment as Killian. It had sounded so straightforward on the ship: find the Blue Fairy, she would tell them where the Princess was, and possibly transport them to her, conveniently providing them with some way to break the curse (slay a dragon, dump a potion on her, spin around three times on one foot singing a sea chanty, _something_ ,) then the Princess would triumph over the Evil Queen then somehow find a way to defeat the Crocodile, and Killian would return to his ship and a life of piracy, lighthearted and fancy free. He should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

"Well," Henry sighed, his hands on hips, "this quest just got more complicated, but at least we have a new lead."

"A new lead?" Killian questioned. "The fairy just told us we're on our own, mate."

"But she gave us a hint on who can help us," Henry said, starting to smile again.

In another moment, the coin dropped, and Killian shook his head. He took a step back, away from Henry, as if distance from the boy would create distance from the thought. Tension crawled up his spine and gripped his jaws tight. When he spoke, it sounded more like a growl though his teeth.

"No. Absolutely not. We are not going to see the bloody Dark One for help."

"We don't have another choice," the boy pointed out. "We can't just wander around the forest hoping we'll run across the Princess, you said so yourself. The Dark One will know where to find her. And, since one," Henry said, holding up one finger, "curses are kind of his specialty, and two, the Dark One hates the Evil Queen, he will probably be willing and able to help us."

He can think of a dozen reasons why this is a bad idea. He settles on the most immediate one. "Lad, the Dark One and I have…a bit of a history. A rather unpleasant one. My going anywhere _near_ him will end badly."

He doesn't have the power to combat the Crocodile's magic. That was why he had gone to Neverland in the first place. Stupid of him to leave the Dreamshade poison aboard the Jolly Roger. Had he thought for a moment he would need it, he would have stashed the tiny vial of concentrated toxin into his satchel along with the rest, but he thought he would have time. He wasn't that selfish. Free the Princess, allow her to defeat her own foe, and then they could take on his. Now the boy was proposing they skip straight to the end of his plan, and he wasn't prepared.

Henry, of course, just shrugged. "So I'll do the talking. You can hang back. Now come on. It's late. We should get some sleep so we can start out early tomorrow. I'm not sure where the Dark One's castle is, but we can ask for directions. I'm sure someone will know."

Killian stood rooted while Henry walked back to their shelter, the snow already melting on the ground. His stomach rolled with tension, and the muscles in his neck and shoulders bunched into knots. And this was just at the _prospect_ of seeing Milah's killer again. He dug out his flask, hand shaking with nerves and tightly suppressed rage, the stump of his arm itching and burning beneath the brace as it hadn't in scores of years. He pulled the cork with his teeth and downed a quarter of the contents in one burning swallow.

The trouble was, he truly could not think of a better plan. As he had told Henry when they started out that morning—and as the lad had reminded him a moment ago—they couldn't just wander around and hope that the innate magic of the Enchanted Forest would drop them where they needed to go. Magic was a fickle thing. It's rules were few, but strict, and so long as it did not directly interfere with life and death, love, or an infinitive recursive loop of wishes, magic did as it damn well pleased. While it appeared to favor them at the moment, they could not count on it continuing to do so.

Which meant that they were off to see the Dark One on the morrow.

Huzzah.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So, to review, the Rules of Magic as explained by the Genie are:

1) Magic can't—at least directly—kill somebody. (Ripping out someone's heart, magically squeezing someone's windpipe, turning someone into something squashable, or knocking them into something hazardous are not, apparently, in that category since it is the result of the magic that causes death, not the magic itself. I.e., you can't wish for someone to die and that person just suddenly keels over. But you can wish for your enemy to be cast beneath the ice of a frozen lake. They'll drown or die of hypothermia, but it was not the magic that caused the death.)

2) Magic can't make someone fall in love. (Lust and infatuation seem to be exempt.)

3) You can't wish for infinite wishes.

And, as always with OUaT, the warning label at the end, "All Magic Comes With A Price."

Also, please note that this was written before season 5 begins, so any updates on Camelot are not part of this story. Sorry.


	4. Good Lord, for Alliance!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of _Once Upon a Time_. This is story is not intended for profit, just as a tribute to the amazing writing, characters, and intricate plots therein.

 **Author's Note** : Today's chapter title brought to you by William Shakespeare. Do you know which play?

 _Much thanks to my beta, Willofthewisp!_

 **Chapter 4—Good Lord, for Alliance!**

* * *

They spent three days walking after their encounter with the fairy Nova, and Killian's mood became darker and darker. He knew Henry could tell. Their conversations had become rarer and downright terse on occasion, at least on his end. Henry at first tried to fill their silence with more stories, but lacking his companion's full attention or reciprocation, even the stories dried up.

Killian felt a bit badly about that, in the small corner of his heart that enjoyed talking with the lad, sharing tales and a laugh, but most of him was now focused on the coming meeting with the Dark One. Added to that, he had no bloody idea where they were. He cursed himself every quarter mile for agreeing to help Henry without a better plan and a full map of the entire buggering Enchanted Forest. Then he cursed himself for agreeing to help in the first place. He should have stayed on the water and put the boy off alone to undertake this quest. Over and over again, the thoughts repeated in his head, yet his feet kept moving inward and onward, the forest slowly giving way to farmland.

By the middle of the third day, the border of the Enchanted Forest was several miles behind them, and the air smelled of warm grass and healthy animals. They now passed through patchwork fields of grains and vegetables that covered so much acreage that Killian guessed they were likely owned by the local nobility or gentry in this corner of the world. Every once in a while they passed a group of peasants working the fields with oxen or mules. Shortly after lunch, Henry spotted a group of farmers cutting hay or weeding or doing some chore that required shears and a lot of bending over. Without asking for permission or even getting Killian's opinion, the boy jogged over to the farmers and struck up a conversation.

Killian hung back. He was not good company right now, and knew it. But Henry, he had come to learn, was never in a bad mood. He was almost always cheerful, but thankfully he knew when to keep quiet. If Killian hadn't been so nauseously apprehensive about their destination, he would go over to the peasants Henry was pestering to hear what the boy managed to wheedle out of them. The lad had already done this several times with farmers, shepherds, and one woodsman to ask for directions or supplies.

Meanwhile, Killian's mood had been downright surly. The fact was they were going to the Dark One's castle. He didn't seem to be ready to abandon the boy just yet, despite his better judgment and constant self-advisement, so it would behoove him to not alienate his one ally. Besides, Henry was just a boy, and had done nothing to deserve Killian's bad mood. He knew he had to at least try to be better company, or Henry might decide to leave _him_ behind. While Killian might respect the lad's courage and intelligence, he knew the boy would not last long alone. And since he still cursed himself for abandoning Bae to the jungles of Neverland, he knew he would regret allowing Henry to wander the Enchanted Forest on his own.

When Henry scampered back, Killian forced himself to give the boy a smile.

"What news, lad?"

"They don't know where to find the Dark One, either," he said. "I didn't expect them to, but I had to ask. You never know, right?"

"True, I suppose."

"But they said that if we cut across these fields, we'll make it to a croft by dusk where we can stop for the night and maybe get some supplies."

"We have a heading then." Killian nodded. "Well done."

Henry's surprised smile caused him to fidget. He cleared his throat and motioned for Henry to lead the way before he broached the topic of his current mood. "My apologies for any recent rudeness, lad. I can't say I'm looking forward to our destination."

"It's okay," Henry said. "I can tell you're afraid—"

"I'm not afraid," Killian protested. _Afraid_ made him sound like a child himself. He was…anxious. Troubled. Wary. Cursedly unprepared. Not afraid.

Henry smirked at him. "Right. Anyway, I could see that you're not happy about where we're going. No offense taken."

"Thanks, lad," he replied, his smile easier to come this time.

Together they traipsed across a huge field, the scent of the damp, loamy earth rising up with every step for the rest of the day. After an hour, they came to a fence which they hopped and found themselves needing to watch where they put their feet. White fleecy shapes dotted the meadow, congregating around a distant pond, but they had left clear signs that they ranged all over the open grass. Their mess was everywhere, along with soiled tufts of oily, matted wool.

"We appear to be in sheep country," Killian observed. He grimaced as he side-stepped another paddy.

"I always thought sheep were soft and fluffy," Henry said, starring skeptically at the matted and dirt-caked patch of wool caught on a bush. "This stuff looks disgusting."

"I wouldn't know, lad. But I expect some cleaning must be included in the process of turning _that_ ," he said, pointing to the wool, "into a warm cloak."

"Must be," Henry agreed.

The farther they went through the pasture, the closer they came to a copse of trees that served as a windbreak in the open meadow, dividing the field in half. They were through it in minutes, just as the sun began its quick descent toward the horizon. The little farmhouse was almost directly in front of them—a one-room stone and mortar structure with a stone chimney and just enough height to suggest a loft above the main room. Killian couldn't make out any smoke, but a heat shimmer over the chimney suggested that there was a fire going inside, and he had definitely seen the figure of a man in the distance as he and Henry had traipsed across the pasture throughout the day. Presumably, it was the shepherd, and hopefully he was close by.

It was early evening as they approached the croft. The sun was kissing the top of the distant tree line to their left. The sky in the east darkened except for a faint belt of pink, and in the west, what few clouds that decorated the sky had turned golden and lavender. Soon they would put on the brighter colors of true sunset. It was, Killian had to admit, a pretty pastoral scene.

"Do you think he's inside?" Henry asked.

"Go on up and knock, lad," Killian directed. He smirked. "If he is, likely he'd listen to you before me."

"You're dressed all in black and carrying a sword," the boy pointed out. "You make people nervous."

Killian grinned. "Pirate, remember? Intimidation is rather the point."

Henry rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he scampered up to the farmhouse door, his knapsack bouncing on his back with each step. Killian was reminded of a long-eared puppy running, its ears flopping about after it. Henry stopped on the dirt stoop and knocked—shave and a haircut—while Killian made his way forward with a touch more dignity. He hid his hook behind a fold of his coat. There was no need scare the man they were going to beg for shelter.

A moment passed. No answer. Henry called out, "Hello? Anybody home?"

"Around back!" a man called out. "Be right there."

After a moment, the shepherd rounded the side of the house. He was taller than the peasants they had passed so far, and had a great deal more confidence. The man was in his late fifties, though he stood straight with no hunch to his spine caused by a lifetime of bending in the field. His hair, once either dark blond or light brown, was going white, though there was still a full head of it. The shepherd's face was half hidden behind a thick beard, which grew down an inch or so beyond his chin. It was still mostly comprised of dark hair with a liberal salting of grey. There were lines around his blue eyes and at the sides of his nose and mouth. His clothing was rough homespun, patched and darned, streaked with oil and splotched with mud and dirt, but the man inside wore them with innate pride. Killian had seen officers who wore their dress uniforms with less dignity than the shepherd wore his dirty, stained smock.

And a surprisingly fine pair of boots. Whoever this man used to be before he was a shepherd, he could afford well-made footwear of high-grade leather. Even stained by sheep dung, grass, and toil, Killian could make out embroidery and the tight stitching indicative of skillful craftsmanship in their creation. There was one spot near the left toe that looked like a repair, but otherwise, they were in good shape.

It was a point of pride Killian recognized. The shepherd used to be a soldier. He stood like one, with his back straight, shoulders relaxed, chin up, and he held his shepherd's crook like a halberd. He could probably use it as a weapon if pressed. The bucket of water he carried, emptied, would make an admirable substitute for either a mace or a shield. Age had not diminished him physically, either. He still had the muscle in his arms and back to put power behind his swings. If it came to a fight between them, Killian was not certain his youth—and wasn't that ironic?—would be enough of a physical boon to make a difference.

Not that he was looking for a fight, but best to be prepared.

While Killian had been looking the man over, the shepherd had been doing the same to his uninvited guests. His expression became wary, which was understandable, as they had come across similar attitudes in most of the peasants they had met. Killian, as Henry had said, made people nervous, and it had been a hard decade for the peasantry by all accounts. Still, suspicion was not conducive to granting them some hospitality for the night. Killian was tired, hungry, and his feet hurt.

Luckily, Henry took his role as ambassador seriously.

"Hi!" the boy greeted him. "We were told by the farmers we met back that way that you might be able to help us. We were hoping you could give us shelter for the night, and let us refill our canteens."

Henry held up his canteen to show him.

As with most people, the shepherd seemed charmed by Henry. The lad had a way with people, able to gain their trust and support even against their will. Even as the shepherd kept his eyes on Killian, taking in the sword and, as Henry had pointed out, the intimidating all-black of his clothing, he seemed to relax a bit at Henry's speech.

"The refill is no problem. There's a well out back." He shifted weight, squaring up to Killian and meeting his eyes. "But don't take this the wrong way, I don't know you. I don't know what you want. Not sure I trust you to spend the night."

"We're not here to steal from you, mate," Killian reassured him. He cast his gaze at the humble croft. "Not exactly like you have much to make theft worthwhile here. Doubt there's gold and gems hidden away in there."

"Oh?" the shepherd asked, the left corner of his mouth hitching up a bit in amusement.

"Well, if there was, you'd be more hostile than you are," Killian pointed out. "In my experience, people who are hoarding riches tend to be not only suspicious but aggressive as well."

"Do you have a lot of experience with people who are hiding riches you're trying to find?" the shepherd asked, rocking back on his heels and crossing his arms over his chest.

"A fair bit," he admitted, smirking. "But rest assured, at the moment my prize lies elsewhere. Whatever you're hiding here is safe from me— if you agree to allow us in, of course." He ended with a faint bow to show respect to his prospective host. It was only good form to show deference to someone who would potentially open his home to wanderers. And the shepherd _was_ hiding something. Killian had developed a bit of a sixth sense about treasure during his time as a pirate, and that intuition was shouting at him now. Not gold or wealth of any kind. But let the man keep his secrets. Killian just wanted a roof over his head for the night.

The shepherd pressed his lips together as he thought a moment. He took a deep breath, flicked his eyes between Henry and Killian, and asked, "You only need a place for the night?"

"We wouldn't say no to being fed, as well," Killian said. "But we have provisions enough to make it a few more days if you're unable to spare anything."

Henry took his turn to speak up, "But we'll be gone in the morning. We're on a quest, and we don't have time to waste if we're going to succeed."

The shepherd grinned at the boy, Henry clearly winning him over.

"A quest? That sounds exciting, but aren't you a little young?"

"That's why I have help," Henry said, motioning to Killian. "I'm Henry, by the way. And this is Captain Hook."

The shepherd raised an eyebrow at him. "Is 'captain' a military rank or a nautical reference?"

"I have my own ship," he said. No need to frighten the man with the details. Although, Killian corrected himself, this was likely not the kind of man who was afraid of much. Still, details were a powerful motivator. Best the piracy be kept a secret.

"And Hook?"

Killian raised the namesake and offered a tight grin.

His other brow rose to join its mate. "I see. Subtle."

"Not really the subtle sort," Killian admitted. "Now could we maybe move the interrogation bit along and get to you either trusting that we mean what we say, or you telling us to move along? Personally, I prefer the first option."

The shepherd huffed a laugh. "Fair enough. I suppose I can trust you for a night, at least. As you pointed out, there's nothing here for you to steal."

Killian caught the thread of regret and truth in his statement and wondered at it.

"I'm David, by the way," the shepherd introduced himself. "Why don't you both come inside? I just need to wash up, and then I've got some stew cooking. Mostly it's mutton, potatoes, and carrots. Not very tasty. I never did master spices. Oh, and bread."

"The vegetables alone are a welcome addition," Killian replied as he followed the shepherd into the croft. "We're down to hardtack and rock hard cheese at this point."

"If you want, we can share the cheese?" Henry added. "Maybe melt it on the bread? I mean, since we are taking half your dinner, it's the least we could do."

David looked pleasantly surprised, his smile returning. "I'll take you up on that."

Inside the little farmhouse was dark except for the poor light provided by the embers in the fireplace in the center of the back wall, an iron hook attached to the side of the stone chimney with a copper pot where their dinner bubbled away, filling the space with a savory steam. On the mantel above the hearth were extra candles and several books. Two unlit lanterns hung from chains dangling from the low ceiling. The walls were bare stone with white mortar in the joints. There were no windows, so the shepherd left the door open to allow in the last of the daylight and provide some fresh air.

Although the shepherd had kept the hovel clean, it still smelled like the home of a bachelor who was a dodgy cook and spent most of his days with sheep. The single-person bed was on the far left wall, hung with drapes of the same homespun as David's clothing. A long wooden trunk abutted the baseboard of the bed. A sideboard with a ewer and pitcher was mounted to the wall next to the door to serve as a wash stand. There were shelves with dishes and utensils at the right. The small table was almost directly center with one chair pulled up to it and a plate covered by a rag towel. A few jugs and bins of tools, roots, and assorted other shepherding accoutrements that Killian could not even guess at completed the accounting of the croft.

"Henry, if you'd slice up some of the bread for us?" David asked, pointing to the dish on the table. He set the bucket of water on the floor by the sideboard and pulled off his smock so that he was only in shirtsleeves and trousers. "Let me wash off a little of the sheep smell, and I'll get us some dinner."

Killian pulled his satchel over his head, and placed it gently on the floor next to the table so as not to break his compass or telescope. He then went to stoke up the fire as the man washed up. He added a brick of what looked like peat to the fire and watched it slowly be eaten by flame, while Henry sliced up the bread he had found under the towel to keep mice and other vermin off.

"Are these pieces okay?"

David looked up and nodded at the three large chunks of grainy, hard-crusted bread Henry had cut. The boy slung his knapsack down to the floor and dug into it to find the promised cheese. Once out, he and Killian crumbled bits onto the bread and set the slices on the stones around the fire.

"Sorry about the lack of seating," David apologized. "I don't get many visitors. Captain, if you'd like, you can take the chair. I can pull up the trunk to make a bench for me and Henry."

"I'll help you pull it over!" Henry volunteered.

"My thanks," Killian said. "I do appreciate you letting us in. It will be a pleasant change to have a roof over our heads for a night."

"You're welcome, Captain," David said. He grunted a bit as he and Henry dragged the trunk over to the table. He sighed as he straightened back up rubbing his back.

Killian pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth as he thought quickly during the time it took the shepherd and the boy to relocate the trunk. After all, they were only staying the night. Who would the shepherd tell? Before he gave himself a chance to question his decision, he held out his hand.

"Killian. It's Killian Jones. Hook is my more colorful moniker," he explained, shaking David's hand. "Though I'll respond to either."

"Hook suits you," David said. His crooked smile was suddenly marred by a wince. He added, more softly, "As my wife would have said."

Killian knew that wince well. "When did you lose her?"

"Back when Regina took over the kingdom. A lot of people died." David tilted his head, his gaze on Killian's wrist. "How about you? I saw a glimpse of the tattoo when you offered your hand, though I couldn't make out the name. Someone you lost?"

Killian tightened his lips in pain. Three centuries, and this stranger just brings her up from a glimpse of a tattoo. For a moment, he wished he had never stretched his bloody arm out. He never spoke of Milah for a reason, even to his crew. It hurt. He considered saying nothing. But he had started it, hadn't he? And David had just admitted that he knew loss of his own just as painful, the loss of a great love. Quick words. Concise facts. The only way to keep the pain bearable.

"Aye," he said. "Milah. A long time ago."

"That's sad," Henry said. "We've all lost someone." He turned to smile at David. "Maybe that's why Fate brought us here. Someone who didn't know loss might not have helped us."

David returned the boy's smile and nodded. "Perhaps you're right. My wife always believed that everything happens for a reason. She strongly believed in destiny."

Killian did not. He never much liked the idea of some unknown force driving his life that he had no control over and no say in. Even if it was an illusion, he preferred to think his life was his own.

"Who did you lose?" David asked Henry.

"My mother. That's why I'm on this quest," Henry explained. "If we can restore all the happy endings, I can get her back."

It was heartbreaking how certain and hopeful that statement was. If the Queen did kill his mother, as Killian suspected, there was no getting her back. That woman did not seem like the kind to show mercy to her victims, with rare exceptions where she was magically compelled not to kill. Henry's mother was gone as surly as Milah was.

"There are other kinds of happy endings, lad," Killian said. "The Princess may not be able to bring your mother back, but I'm sure you'll get a fine ending nevertheless."

"Wait," David said, looking back and forth between them. "Princess?"

Killian shot the shepherd a look. There was an odd chord to the man's question, but he couldn't place it.

"Our quest," Henry answered. "We're going to rescue the daughter of Queen Snow White who was cursed when the kingdom fell to the Evil Queen. Once the Princess is free, then she can bring back the happy endings of all the people in the Enchanted Forest who have been wronged or hurt by evil."

He sat and watched the shepherd's face as Henry spoke. The lines on David's face deepened, his eyes dimmed. The man sat hunched at his table, his hands folded atop as if a weight pressed down on his shoulders.

"Where did you hear about this Princess?" David asked.

Just as he had done with Killian, Henry hesitated. Killian understood the impulse. The boy, despite his seemingly incorruptible innocence, was intelligent. He knew better than to just go about blurting his story to strangers. He watched Henry struggle with what to tell David—the truth or a vague equivocation?

David, on the other hand, leaned toward Henry with such an expression of desperation. The man looked as if nightmares were tormenting his mind, but there was a longing there as well. His quick breathing, his focused eyes. It could be nothing other than longing, as if the resolution of all his nightmares may depend upon the boy's answer, though the man was trying to hide it. Why? And for what? This man, this anonymous shepherd living in the foothills, was more than he appeared. Those boots were too expensive for a mere farmer, and no one would set his heart of a child's tale who did not have something to gain or lose by the telling.

Henry saw something in the man's face as well, and he answered truly.

"Someone who was there when she was cursed told me about her." He leaned in and crossed his arms atop the table, scrutinizing the shepherd with narrowed eyes. "How do _you_ know about the Princess?"

David took a deep breath. He hung his head to study the rough wood of the table, and answered quietly, "I was there, too."

Henry started bouncing in his seat. He looked like he might climb on David to pry the story from him. "You were there when she was cursed?"

"Not quite," David said. "I was at the castle when it fell to Regina and King George's mercenaries. The curse happened on the same day. While we fought, the Evil Queen went to find the Princess."

"You were a soldier," Killian said.

David met his eyes and nodded. "I fought for the royal family, yes. The Princess had already been sent into hiding when the siege occurred. The King and Queen, and their heir, Prince James the Second, were still there when the attack began."

His gaze unfocused, watching the memories playing in his mind. "When the castle fell, the remainder of the army tried to regroup in the forest. Within days we received news that Regina had found the Princess, but no one knew what happened to her. Many lost hope. There were dozens of deserters almost overnight. Then we found out that the Dark One had escaped his cell. He had no reason to like or support the remainder of the royal family. We were outnumbered and out-magicked on all sides. A few of us kept fighting on for nearly a year, trying to make a dent in the enemy's army, before…"

He took a shuddering breath and shook his head. "You can only go on for so long without hope. Without something to believe in. Without people you love to fight for."

There was nothing Killian could say to that. Even Henry appeared at a loss for the moment. The crackle of the fire drew David's attention, and he excused himself from the table to fetch their dinner. Killian allowed him the time to regroup and catch his breath. David passed bowls of stew and the pieces of cheese-covered bread to Henry, who was closer, who then passed Killian his portion.

Once David rejoined them at the table, Henry asked, "Did you ever look for the Princess yourself?"

"For years," he confirmed. "I followed every lead I came across. I even tried to find the Dark One after I discovered that he and the Evil Queen were feuding. But I got stuck in some kind of barrier spell he put up around his castle. Finally, I suppose even _I_ lost faith."

"It's a hard commodity to come by when you've lost everything," Killian observed.

"Indeed it is," David agreed.

Again, the men shared a moment of understanding. One side of the shepherd's mouth quirked up in a nascent smile. Then he turned to Henry to finish his tale.

"For years, I just wandered. Eventually, I found myself here, in the foothills." He shrugged. "I grew up on a farm raising sheep. It was a long time ago, but it's still familiar work. I've been here two…almost three years now."

David cleared his throat and laughed a little, presumably at himself. He shook his head. "That was a longer speech than I've given in a while. Now that I've finished dominating the dinner conversation, how about you tell me your stories? Or a story, at least. How did you end up travelling together?"

Killian allowed Henry to tell that tale. He hesitated to share his profession and recent return to the realm with a stranger, for all David had shared his own story. While David had talked, the sun had finally set and the light from outside the croft had faded to a soft, deep blue, the starlight reflecting off of the Northern Mountains and shining on the grass and through the still-open doorway. Inside the croft was illuminated only by the fire. During Henry's recitation of his meeting with Killian and subsequent rescue by the same, David retrieved a rush, lit it in the hearth, and used it to light the candles in the lanterns hanging from the ceiling so that they could see their bowls. Outside, the crickets in the grass had begun their nightly symphony accompanied by the occasional hoot of an owl and distant call of a bullfrog.

It was pastoral. And homey. Killian could appreciate the ambiance, but he still missed the sway of his ship with the waves and the wind, and the smell of the ocean that permeated his ship.

When Henry reached the end of his tale, he nodded to David. "And now that we found you, you have to come with us on our quest."

"What?" Killian barked, his spoon halfway to his mouth.

"Oh, do I?" David asked, smiling from behind his beard.

"Well it's obvious, isn't it?" Henry leaned across the table to grin at Killian. "Of all the people and places we could have come across, we came to the home of a former soldier who fought for the Princess's family, and has already tried to search for her once. That's not a coincidence. That's destiny. He _has_ to come with us."

Killian sighed—destiny again—and opened his mouth to list all the reasons the shepherd was unwelcome: Henry only had this man's word for his history, and he could be lying; even if he was not lying, they didn't know him well enough to trust him not to betray them or give up later on; David was past his prime and would likely not be much help on the journey; and besides, crofters were little more than slaves, beholden to their masters to care for their fields or livestock—he couldn't just leave without his master's permission.

But David, apparently sharing Henry's delusions, spoke up first.

"He's right. Such things don't happen by accident." He chuckled at some private joke. "Believe me, I know."

"Met with much destiny have you, mate?" Killian scoffed.

"You'd be surprised."

Killian huffed, setting his spoon on the table by his bowl. "Look, I appreciate your hospitality, taking us in for the night and feeding us, and if you'd be so kind as to supply us with some additional provisions for our journey, I can offer you gold for payment, but like as not, you'd slow us down."

"I spend all day running after sheep," David pointed out, a confident smirk to rival Killian's own half-camouflaged behind his whiskers. "Trust me, keeping up with a child and a man who has likely never been higher than sea level his whole life as they head toward the northern summits will be easy. By the time we start up those mountains, _you'll_ be the ones struggling to keep up with _me_."

"Mate," Killian tried to reason, "you're not exactly a young man anymore."

The irony of that nearly made him laugh out loud. He was two and a half centuries this man's senior. Not wiser, perhaps, but older. Ah, Neverland. Poison and cure, all in one.

"I'm not dead just yet, Hook," David said. "And I'm motivated. I'm coming with you."

"Think of it this way," Henry chimed in. "Even after we free the Princess from the curse, we're going to need help defeating the Queen."

"To be honest, lad, defeating the Queen isn't what I'm after in all of this," Killian snapped.

"What _are_ you getting out of this, then?" David asked.

"My happy ending, of course," he said, a practiced piratical smile twisting his mouth. "The details of which are my own."

David considered him a moment, weighing the words, before he nodded. "Then you'll understand that I, too, have my reasons for joining your quest."

Killian considered what he'd gleaned about the man. His first impressions were of a warrior, and David had admitted to being a soldier. He said he knew the mountains, which made sense, and Killian emphatically did not. He was invested in the cause, whatever his reasons. And if Killian did decide, later, to abandon ship, at least Henry would have someone looking after him.

Still…

"When was the last time you lifted a sword?"

David did smile then. "Again, I think you'd be surprised."

He stood and motioned Henry to stand as well. Then he opened the lid of the trunk. From inside, he lifted out a sheathed sword at least three feet long. Like his boots, the scabbard was made of fine leather, well-oiled, and obviously handled frequently. The T-shaped hilt, the points of which turned downward slightly to deflect an enemy blade, was clean and sparkled gold in the lantern light. David lifted the sword from the scabbard a few inches so that Killian could see the blade itself was equally clean and oiled, and that the edge was sharp.

Well, then.

Killian nodded. "In that case, welcome aboard."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** You would not _believe_ how hard this chapter fought me! And in the midst of it, my laptop started freaking out. (My own fault: I did the stupid thing and was writing while having a wine cooler. The wine cooler tipped over. I cursed myself soundly and creatively.)

Then, this week, I started a new job, which is why the delay in posting. The next few chapters may be slower in coming as I acclimate to the new job. The story itself is nearly complete, but in order to keep up with what I've written, I may need to post every week and a half or two weeks for a while. Sorry!

Make sure to drop me a review to let me know if you like the story, what your favorite part of this chapter was, any questions you have… Let me know! Reviews are my bread and butter!


	5. Dark and Dangerous Things

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of _Once Upon a Time_. This is story is not intended for profit, just as a tribute to the amazing writing, characters, and intricate plots therein.

 **Additional Disclaimer:** Any dialogue you recognize comes directly from the show, along with a shout-out to _Labyrinth_. Brownie points to anyone who spots it!

 _ **Once again, a huge thanks to Willofthewisp for betaing this fic for me.**_

 **Chapter 5 – Dark and Dangerous Things**

* * *

After a good night's sleep, complete with a roof over their heads and full bellies, the party of three set out at first light. They added some potatoes, carrots, and onions from David's stores, along with the last of the bread loaf and some salted meat to their provisions. They refilled their canteens from the well, and then they were off after a brief stop at the neighboring croft to have someone come look after the sheep.

"So…" David opened as they stepped into the shadows beneath the giant evergreens. "Besides 'north,' did you have a destination in mind for the next leg of the journey?"

Henry sighed. "Well, we tried to contact the Blue Fairy, but we couldn't reach her. Nova, the fairy who is taking Blue's calls, said that she was injured when the Dark One escaped. So we're going to see _him_ for information about the location of the Princess."

David stopped, forcing Killian and Henry to stop as well. He stood statue-still and stared at Henry. He opened his mouth…closed it, and repeated. Then David shook his head, as if he might shake water from his ears.

"I'm sorry, you were on your way to see the Dark One?"

"Yep."

David looked at Killian for confirmation, and the pirate could only nod and share a commiserating look of trepidation.

"I'm not sure that's the best idea," David said with a great deal of hesitation.

"If you can talk him out of it, be my guest," Killian said, gesturing to the boy.

Henry huffed and slumped his shoulders. "Not you, too." He sighed and shook his head. "Look, we need help, and the fairies are out of the loop with their leader down. Rumpelstiltskin is our best chance."

"Remember, I tried to see him once," David tried to reason with him. "He has a barrier around his castle. We won't be able to get through."

"Maybe it's down now," Henry suggested with a shrug. "Besides, doesn't he come when you call him?"

"He can hear his name spoken throughout the Enchanted Forest, but he's not obligated to come," David corrected. "No one has seen him since his escape. He even stopped making deals. He just lurks up there in the Dark Castle, and occasionally we little folk get word of some bloody confrontation between him and the Evil Queen's forces."

"Then we'll just have to find a way to get to him, then," Henry said, starting off again and forcing the men to follow. "You guys worry too much. You have to have faith. We _will_ succeed."

David flinched, pulling in a sudden deep breath. Killian turned his head to watch as some memory returned to the shepherd. David smiled and shook his head.

"Kid, I think we're going to be good friends," he said. "And thank you. My wife always said the same thing; that we needed to have faith. And when she lost her way, it was my job to remind her. But I suppose I've been without it for too long, and it doesn't come naturally anymore."

Killian, politely as he could, kept his scoffing to a minimum. "Faith is all well and good, but I would prefer a plan."

"We have days before we reach his castle yet," David said. "I know of a portion of the forest that has a shortcut. Well, it used to. Hopefully it hasn't moved."

As they journeyed onward, Henry revived the story game, this time including David. They swapped stories of knights and battles, dragons and chimaera, daring exploits and dangerous quests—all with happy endings, of course. The two of them were peas in a pod, and though Killian would never admit it, he was a tad jealous. On the other hand, no pun intended, he had exhausted his store of child-friendly tales days ago. So when they invited him to add his own story, he had to decline.

"I could tell you the tale of 'Long Molly and the Garden Rake,' but the lad's a bit young to appreciate the nuance." He winked at David who smothered a laugh. Henry just begged a retelling of the tale of Back-Back the Hunchback. Killian obliged, and found that he enjoyed the companionship. And he wasn't even drunk, more the surprise.

Twice, they had to stop and hide from the Evil Queen's Black Knights. The first time, David pointed them toward a hollow in the roots of a tree that had been washed out by rain and runoff, creating a miniature cave. The second time, Killian pointed out another pine with draping boughs, like the one he and Henry had sheltered beneath their first night out. It served to hide them until the search party passed by.

Once the sun set, Killian found a clearing, and checked their progress by the stars. While the politics of the land had changed, and kingdoms had risen and fallen while he had been in Neverland, the stars had remained the same. He had learned to read them as a cabin boy when he was Henry's age. He had learned not only the stars but all the myriad wanderers, constellations, and comets in the naval academy. He could find his way anywhere in this realm with only a glance to the sky on a clear night. And now, he could see that they were indeed headed northward, and the summer constellations were descending to allow the autumnal stars to take their place. The moon was a faint crescent in the eastern sky, and would wax in the days to come.

As they made camp that night, discussion turned again to how they would approach the Dark One.

"I actually think it might be better if Henry did the talking," David said as he lit the fire inside the small hollow they had dug in the forest floor. "The Dark One isn't really known for his charity and good deeds. It goes against the job title. Besides, I don't think he would willingly help if he saw me."

"Run afoul of the Dark One, did you?" Killian asked.

"That I did."

"Join the club, mate."

David laughed and returned a crooked smile. "We can have a secret handshake."

"Perhaps even planned escape routes and a vow of secrecy between members," he rejoined.

"Good thinking," David said.

"You guys are weird," Henry said, laughing.

The men shared a grin at the boy's obvious bemusement.

"Gallows humor, lad," Killian explained.

"I know you guys are worried about my plan, but if Rumpelstiltskin knows where the Princess is, we _have_ to go and see him to find out," Henry insisted. "I'll go in alone if I have to."

"No," David said. "Not alone."

Killian, however, could see the merit in sending the lad in as their emissary—though, as David said, certainly not alone.

"I don't think he's changed so much that he'd hurt a child, unless I'm much mistaken. I admit, I haven't been in these parts for a while. Has he taken to skinning the local brats?"

"Not that I know of," David said. Then he frowned, thinking. "Actually, now that you mention it, in all the stories I've ever heard about the Dark One, he never does any harm to a child. Protects them, more often than not. For a price, but still."

Killian shrugged. "So you see? The lad will be fine."

"I'm kind of looking forward to it, actually!" Henry announced with a happy, innocent, eager smile upon his young face.

As had become a habit the last day, the two adult shared a look of equal parts despair and amusement. Oh, youth. Killian did not truly think either of them would trade their wisdom for it any day.

* * *

The journey took half the time it should have. They set out the next morning after a quick breakfast, and the shortcut David mentioned was right were he said it was. They started their day climbing the first of the foothills, and by midday, they were on a mountain plateau beside a broad, thundering waterfall of snowmelt from the high peak behind them when they stopped for lunch. Even with a late start after their break, they found themselves deep in the mountains by nightfall.

"See?" Henry said. "The Forest wants us to succeed. We could never have come this far so quickly otherwise."

Henry jogged ahead of the men, his exuberance fueling him forward.

David looked at the forest around them, and nodded. "I don't know if the Infinite Forest is sentient to the point where it could do such a thing, but this shortcut is certainly more helpful than I remember."

"Perhaps we ran into a second wandering magical loop," Killian suggested.

"Perhaps," David said.

At dusk, they stopped for the night, and Killian and David divided turns on watch. The night passed quietly. The animals of the forest left them alone, and the temperature remained steady. When they started out the next morning, their luck held. The three found themselves once again many miles away from their campsite in only a few hours. Despite Henry's enthusiasm, both Killian and David felt the itchy weight of foreboding. Killian was not the only one looking behind them every few steps or scanning the trees for threats that never appeared.

Afternoon found them trudging up a steep hill shaded by towering evergreens. Killian and David kept wary eyes out for anything that might lurk in the shadows. Wild animals were as much a danger this deep in the mountains as the threat of Black Knights was. Henry played scout, bounding on ahead of them, but David insisted the boy not go beyond their sight, which, in the dense forest, was not terribly far.

"Do you think _he's_ doing this?" David asked Killian, his voice pitched low to keep Henry from overhearing.

"No idea, mate. Can't see what advantage he would get from it."

"And he always wants the advantage," David conceded.

"That doesn't mean he isn't interfering with the magic of the forest, though," Killian pointed out.

"To get us to him or to keep us away from him?"

"Guys!" Henry shouted.

The men looked ahead and found Henry at the top of the hill. The lad was smiling and looking down into the wide valley Killian could just see through the trees. To the left and right there were jagged mountain peaks covered in snow. As Killian and David crested the hill to stand beside him, Killian looked down on a plateau that housed a single winding road that passed through the only gate of a huge castle. On the other side of the plateau was a steep drop into another valley. The castle itself was made of grey stone and capped with dark slate on the turrets and main keep. The polygonal sides of the curtain wall surrounded a wide, green space in front of the central building with its tall tower.

"Let me guess," Killian muttered.

"The Dark Castle," David confirmed. "This is far closer than I got the last time I attempted this journey."

"I knew it!" Henry crowed. "There _is_ something that wants us to succeed. Let's go!"

He started to rush off, but Killian snagged the strap of Henry's knapsack with his hook. "Slowly, lad. We need a better plan than to trust in fate to get you in and out in once piece."

Henry shrugged. "I just go up to the door and tell him I want to find the cursed Princess, and he tells me what the price is. Seems simple."

"But you never know what his price will be until he has you cornered," David explained. "Hook is right. We need to have a clear plan to get you in, know exactly _what_ you are willing to agree to, and how to get you out safely."

Killian nodded. "We need to proceed with caution. Even if he doesn't harm children, there are still reasons he's called the Dark One."

"Right you are, dearie!"

Almost before he had spun around to look at the source of the high-pitched giggle, Killian felt an invisible noose around his neck tighten and squeeze. The Crocodile was much as he was the last time he had seen him: reptilian eyes glaring at his captive, gold-flecked skin, an animalistic snarl, and dressed finely in a loose, gold silk shirt, tightly cuffed around the hand that held the magical vice around Killian's neck. A red leather jerkin and black leather trousers helped to complete the reptilian façade. It was a far cry from the haggard spinner he had first met, he mused as Rumpelstiltskin magically tightened his hold on Killian's neck and black spots swarmed in his vision like a cloud of angry gnats.

He heard the whisper of a sword being released and the shuffle of feet in the leaf-litter underfoot before Rumpelstiltskin's other hand shot out with a bolt of purple lightening.

"Look who it is!" the imp cackled. "The pirate. Not enough I took your hand, you've come back so that I can take off a few other bits and bobbles? Before killing you, of course."

Henry darted between them, his hands raised in surrender. "Stop! Please, you have to let him go!"

"Mmm, no I don't!" Rumpelstiltskin said.

Typical bloody Crocodile with no pity for anyone accept himself. He wondered where David was and if he had been hurt by whatever spell Rumpelstiltskin had thrown at him. Killian fought to see what had happened to the shepherd as his periphery was darkening as he struggled for air.

"Please!" Henry begged, stepping closer.

Killian tried to gurgle out a warning for the boy to run, but nothing coherent came out. He clawed at his throat out of instinct, but there was nothing there to grasp.

"I need his help," Henry explained. "We have to save the Princess, the one who's supposed to bring back the happy endings—even yours! You have to let Hook go!"

"Hook?" he asked, giggling. Without seeming to move, he was suddenly right in front of Killian. "Is that what you're going by now?" He glanced down at the hand he had cut off, and grinned when he saw the prosthetic in its place. "I see. Is that the one you tried to kill me with? I bet it is. No help to you then. No help to you now."

He twirled to look down at Henry. Or Killian assumed he did. His vision was dark around the edges now, and sound came from farther and farther away.

"What would you know about happy endings, anyway, sonny?"

"I know about Belle," Henry said. "If you let Hook go, I can get you to her!"

"Belle?" Rumpelstiltskin said in a new tone of voice, one Killian had never heard. "Belle is dead. What do you know about her?"

"She's not dead," Henry corrected. "She's a prisoner."

"Lies," Rumpelstiltskin accused, pointing his finger at the boy.

"Truth," Henry argued, shaking his head.

For a moment, the Crocodile froze. Then the grip on his throat disappeared, and Killian dropped to his knees gasping for breath. Sparks and spots danced over his vision. His throat and lungs burned as the cool mountain air poured in freely. He coughed and gasped. He could hear his heart pounding, his blood throbbing in his veins and almost drowning out the voices around him.

"How do you know?" the Crocodile asked.

Henry took a deep breath. "My mother is the Evil Queen. I'm allowed to go anywhere in the Winter Palace I want. Belle is kept in the tower. She's been there for ages—longer than I've been alive. She told me stories about how you bargained for her when ogres attacked her kingdom, and how she slept in a cell for weeks dressed in the same ball gown before you gave her a real room and new clothes. She told me about being your housekeeper, and watching you spin straw into gold, and how you had nailed down the curtains on the windows before she pulled them out and let the light in. She told me how she fell in love with you, and you fell in love with her, and how she found your son's clothes, and that you light a candle for him every year—"

"Enough!"

He grabbed Henry by the shoulders and shook him. Killian wished he could see the Crocodile's face at this moment, bested by a boy's tale. Henry's sincerity was clearly the undoing of the villain's skepticism.

 _Isn't that exactly what happened to you, too, mate?_ he asked himself.

"How?" the Dark One demanded. "How did Regina get her?"

"Belle said that you pushed her away, so she left and went on an adventure of her own to prove she could be a hero."

"Yes," Rumpelstiltskin murmured so softly Killian almost missed it. "She would have."

"She defeated a _Yaogui_ ," Henry reported. "She made an ally in a warrior-woman named Mulan and a prince named Phillip who was searching for his True Love who had been placed under a sleeping curse."

Rumpelstiltskin, face contorted in impatience, demanded, "Yes, yes, get on with what happed to _Belle_!"

"My mother found her on the road. Belle said that she was headed back here, back to you, but Regina captured her and locked her away." Henry shrugged. "I bring her books sometimes. She tells the best stories."

Rumpelstiltskin waved his hand, and David was released from whatever spell had held him. The shepherd immediately came to Killian's side and helped him to his feet. He swallowed, feeling the muscles of his throat rub, and winced. He was actually a bit glad David held onto his arm until he was steady on his feet.

"Belle is alive," the Dark One murmured. His eyes darted back and forth, not really seeing his audience, as if he were re-reading a text he had thought he memorized to find the place he must have skipped over.

"I can get you to her," Henry said, "but it won't mean anything if the Enchanted Forest is still in Darkness. The Savior has to be freed from the curse so she can bring back the happy endings, including _yours_ with Belle and your son."

An ugly look twisted Rumpelstiltskin's face as he mocked, " _The Savior_? The 'Savior' was supposed to save _us_ from a curse! A very specific curse, in fact. My curse. The Dark Curse that Regina was _supposed_ to enact, taking us all to a land without magic so I could _find_! _My_! _Son_!" he spat. "But that didn't _happen_ , did it? Now the Savior needs saving, so what good is she? Nothing, nothing tra-la-la."

"Last I saw Baelfire, he was in Neverland, trapped by Peter Pan," Killian said, his voice rough from the attempted strangulation.

At the mention of the demon-boy of Neverland, the Dark One's persona cracked momentarily, and Killian could see the poor spinner beneath. There was shock and fear there. Clearly the man recognized the name.

"Peter Pan?"

"You've heard of him?"

"You have no idea," Rumpelstiltskin murmured.

It was almost fascinating to watch the wheels of old Rumple's mental cart turn and turn as he thought. He patched the mental crack to cover the coward beneath quickly, and was back to his dangerous, reptilian self within the space of a breath. Then a thought apparently occurred to him. He took a step back toward Killian, his shoulders hunched, his finger pointed and accusing.

"Wait…How did he _get_ to Neverland? And when did _you_ see my son?"

"How do you think I'm still alive, and as devilishly handsome as ever, after three centuries?" Killian asked. He heard David's sharp inhale and ignored it. "I've been in Neverland almost since the day you killed her. I figured it would buy me some time to figure out how to kill _you_."

The Dark One began to lift his hand, and Killian braced himself for the magical blow or the invisible rope tightening around his neck. But David stepped between them, holding his hands out.

"That's enough. We're here for aide, not to antagonize you," the shepherd said, shooting Killian a quelling look.

Rumpelstiltskin finally took a good look at the third member of their party, and grinned whimsically. "Ah! The shepherd! So nice to see you again."

David took a deep breath and slowly lowered his arms to his sides. "Honestly, I'm surprised you're not trying to kill me on sight, as well."

"Silly, stupid, self-important fool," the Dark One sang. "You think you could actually harm me if I didn't wish to be harmed? Or _captured_? I was precisely where I wanted to be, when I wanted to be there. And when your little cell no longer had use to me, I left it."

David lost a beat staring at the imp before he shook his head.

"Look, we don't have time for this," David said. "The Black Knights are everywhere looking for Henry. The longer we delay, the more likely they will find us."

"Nonsense," Rumpelstiltskin scoffed. "Regina knows better than to send her goons here, and they're smart enough not to come on their own accord. My lands are perfectly safe from the so-called 'Evil Queen.' We have all the time in the world. Now!" He snarled at Killian. "Give me one good reason why I should let you live."

"Because he's a strong fighter, a skilled navigator, and we need him to rescue the Princess," David responded without missing a beat. "Unless you plan on accompanying us on this quest to lend a hand?"

"I think not," Rumpelstiltskin answered crisply.

David nodded. "Then the fact remains, we need him, and so do you, if you want your Belle back."

"I could just break into Regina's castle and kill her for you, freeing Belle myself," the Dark One said.

"If you could have, you'd have done it by now," Killian pointed out.

"Believing Belle was dead, I lacked the proper motivation before."

"Bollocks," Killian said. "Even if you didn't know this Belle lass was alive, the Dark One I remember would have challenged the Queen in her own castle, just as he would challenge a pirate on his own ship, if he believed that there was something there he wanted." Killian smirked at the imp. "I've always been fond of a wager. I bet the Queen has some sort of protection around her castle that prevents you from entering."

"It would explain why there have been no stories of you launching a full assault on her," David said. "There aren't even any stories of you attempting to kill her in her sleep, and if you could enter her castle at will, I have no doubt you would have assassinated her by now."

"There are ways around that," Rumpelstiltskin said. "Now that I know what she's hiding, nothing Regina can do would keep me out."

"Your son," Henry piped up.

The Dark One looked down at the boy. Henry took a step forward to stand directly in front of Rumpelstiltskin. "You said you want to find your son. Even if you did rescue Belle, you still wouldn't have a way to get to your son. He's part of your happy ending. The Savior can find him. Reunite you with him. I know she can. It's what she was born for, but only if we can rescue her first."

"And you wouldn't have to lift a finger," David added. "After all, why do the work yourself when you can get a bunch of dupes to do it for you?"

"Hmm," Rumplestiltskin mused. "You do have a point. I hate getting my hands dirty. And you've always been a tool."

He bent to look Henry in the eye, and for the first time since hearing the insane giggle before the Dark One's magical noose started to squeeze, Killian breathed deeply in relief. This was the Rumpelstiltskin that would not hurt a child. This was the man beneath the monster leaning over to talk to the boy.

"You're quite right," Rumpelstiltskin said. "I want my son, and in Neverland, Pan reigns supreme. And as for Regina... I'll not risk her killing Belle by forcing my hand just yet."

It was disturbing, for Killian knew how destructive the Crocodile's affections could be to those upon which he bestowed them. He hoped that Henry's ploy to gain his help would _not_ be met. For the Crocodile to get his happy ending, Killian's own would be forfeit.

But if he wanted to live through this encounter, it was best not to point any of that out aloud.

Killian glanced to his right, where David stood. The shepherd looked back, and raised his brows slightly at the Dark One's speech. The Crocodile was becoming more and more human as he spoke. Killian wondered how much of the Dark One was showmanship to hide the coward lurking underneath, and how much was the man's true personality revealed. He had seen many a man who was even tempered and affable sober, but became a hot-headed, violent drunk. Did magic work the same way, releasing inhibitions and damning consequences to the last and final hell, sobriety a distant and not very pleasant dream? Did the magic create the monster or simply release it from its cage? Which personality was more real, the coward or the Crocodile?

Rumpelstiltskin straightened slowly. His eyes fogged over slightly, as if he was looking deep into his own mind. Killian wondered if he could kill him now, while he was distracted. He turned the wrist encased in the black leather brace so the sharp point of his hook was facing inward.

David shifted.

Killian looked at him and found the shepherd, frowning at him. David glanced once at the hook then back up to meet his eyes. The message was clear. Killian gritted his teeth, and turned the hook's point to face the ground.

"I cannot go with you on this quest," Rumpelstiltskin announced, his voice almost as far away as his gaze.

"You mean you won't help us?" Henry asked, disappointment in every syllable.

Rumpelstiltskin waved his hands, face contorting in exaggerated irritation. "It's not that simple. There are paths we must follow in order to get the story back on track. Regina's initial deviation has thrown every subsequent action out of sequence. Naughty!" He giggled. "So unfortunately, this is something you must do alone. I am bound by the rules of this new game."

"Deviation?" David asked.

Rumpelstiltskin snarled, "Regina changed it! She should have left it alone and done as she was supposed to!" He took a deep breath and shook himself slightly. "But no matter, no matter. We must play the hand that we hold.

"I cannot help you directly, shepherd, as I did before. No glowing rings or seek-and-find spells. So while I would like to just be able to _poof_ you to your Princess, I am constrained by the path we are now on. Any overt action against Regina would be cause for all-out hostilities between us, and let me assure you—it would _not_ go well for the Enchanted Forest to be caught in the middle of a dark magician's duel. But I will attempt to nudge from behind the scenes."

He looked again at Henry. "And you, little Prince, remember: once this quest is at an end, you will lead me to Belle, and the Savior will find my son."

"Agreed," Henry said, nodding. "But you have to leave Hook alone." He held out his hand to Rumpelstiltskin.

The Dark One hesitated, glancing at Killian.

He tried to keep his face as neutral as possible. No, he would not hesitate to attack the monster if he had the opportunity, and he most certainly would have the concentrated Dreamshade poison with him next time, but for now, this merry band needed the Dark One's help. That was more important that his vendetta. He could always kill the Crocodile later. And if this Princess was a powerful as the boy, the shepherd, and the Dark One seemed to think, she must be powerful enough to defeat even the Dark One himself. If Rumpelstiltskin needed her to achieve his own happiness, Killian would just have to find her first and make sure she chose _his_ happy ending instead.

Rumpelstiltskin took Henry's hand and shook, not taking his eyes off of Killian. "Agreed, for now. But don't expect me to go out of my way to save him should he come to harm."

"I'll watch his back," David said.

By the gods, it actually sounded as if the shepherd meant it. Killian couldn't have kept the surprise off of his face even if he had gotten advanced warning. Having an ally was a rarity. And David appeared to be a staunch one.

"Good luck with that," Rumpelstiltskin sneered. "Go west. There's a magical little pinch down in that valley that connects to another part of the Infinite Forest in the east. It's supposed to keep unwanted guests from reaching me. Once you're in the eastern forests, you can continue two more days north, toward a waterfall fed by a stream that in turn is the fed by the runoff of a mountain lake. I believe your Princess will be able to make herself known to you as you get close. I cannot be more specific."

"Of course not," Killian muttered.

"Thank you," David jumped in almost on top of Killian's statement, shooting him an annoyed look. "For all of your help. Will we need to contact you once we've found the Princess?"

"No," Rumpelstiltskin said. "You'll still have some work to do after you find her. Trust me, when the time is right, I'll see you again."

A swirl of purple smoke engulfed them, and when it cleared, the travelers found themselves in the wooded valley below the Dark Castle, the Dark One nowhere in sight.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** So, what do you think? Was the meeting with the Dark One what you expected? Drop me a review and let me know!


	6. Enemies and Allies

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of _Once Upon a Time_. This is story is not intended for profit, just as a tribute to the amazing writing, characters, and intricate plots therein.

 **Additional Disclaimer:** Any dialogue you recognize comes directly from the show. Also, shout-out to Robert Frost! "A walk through the woods on a snowy evening" is the poem, if you can't place the reference. What can I say? I'm a Lit nerd.

 _ **As always, props to my beta, Willofthewisp!**_

 **Chapter 6—Enemies and Allies**

* * *

As the purple smoke cleared, Killian took in his new surroundings. They were now standing in a deep valley surrounded by barren deciduous trees rather than the stately evergreens of the high mountain ridge upon which they previously stood before the Crocodile did his magic trick. Almost before he had a chance to regain his balance from the unexpected teleportation, David squared up to him, glaring.

"I think maybe we need to discuss your history with Rumpelstiltskin," he said in a tone that implied it was the farthest thing from an actual suggestion. "You haven't been very forthcoming, and that, back there, is definitely something we should know about."

"Could say the same to you, mate," Killian pointed out. "How did you get mixed up in his capture all those years ago?"

Then another thought struck him. Killian turned to Henry with narrowed eyes. "And you—your mother is the Evil Queen? I recall you saying that you had lost your mother. Instead, she's the woman whose knights have been dogging our heels this whole journey. That might have been important to know. So what is this, some sort of rebellion against her because you don't like your bedtime?"

"No!" Henry objected, shaking his head hard. "It's not like that at all. Regina may have taken me in, but she's not my mother. She doesn't want to raise me. She doesn't love me! She wants someone to _adore_ her, to _need_ her. It's not the same thing."

"All I'm hearing is a spoiled child whining," Killian snapped while David, arms crossed, appeared to be studying the boy through narrowed eyes.

"You don't know anything about it!" the lad protested, his face scrunched in rebellion. "There were nannies who got me dressed and fed me and taught me. And once a day, they would bring me to Regina's solarium for her to inspect me. And I was supposed to be loving and—and _grateful_! And if I ever complained that I wanted to go outside to play, or have friends, or learn to swordfight, then I was an ungrateful child who didn't know what was best for myself, so instead I just got more toys or lessons or dessert instead of love or freedom. The Evil Queen is _not_ my mother. She's my jailer."

A bit melodramatic, perhaps, but in essence Killian could not detect a lie in Henry's speech. And he was good at ferreting out lies. He would be less than half the skilled pirate he was if he could not tell when someone was trying to cheat him. Henry had told the truth. It was not a childhood Killian could relate to, but perhaps a gilded cage was as bad as the dockside slums where he had lived when he was young. Doubtful, but Killian admitted the possibility out of respect for Henry.

"So you undertook this quest to teach her a lesson?" he asked as gently as possible.

"No," Henry said. He breathed a mighty sigh and muttered, "You wouldn't understand."

"You went looking for someone to love you," David said.

Henry stiffened, his face wooden. Then he blinked rapidly, his shoulders hunched, and refused to answer. David sighed and shook his head. He turned his attention from Henry, allowing the boy a moment to regroup. Unfortunately, his attention focused on Killian as his next order of business.

"Now you, Jones. What could you have done to the Dark One to make him hate you so much? Even I didn't rate that much loathing, and I would think locking him in a cell was pretty bad."

"You already knew I had a history with the Dark One," Killian said. "Why are you so concerned about it now?"

"I thought your history was the usual," David explained. "A deal gone wrong. But that? That was personal. You said you've been in Neverland since 'she' died. Who was she?"

Killian shook his head and tried to smile. He wasn't sure a true smile actually appeared, but he gave it his best. "Not your concern, mate. I'll allow you your history if you allow me mine. Shall we head on?"

He tried to step away, intending to put distance between himself and the questions as well as continue on their journey. But David grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. When Killian faced the shepherd, he could hear David's teeth grinding.

"The hell it's not my concern!" David snapped. "It is definitely our concern if it means that we have a powerful and potentially antagonistic sorcerer supposedly helping us who suddenly decides that you're not worth keeping around. Henry made a deal with him for you. You owe us an explanation."

When Killian hesitated again, David released his arm and stepped back and took a breath to calm himself. "Look, we're a three man…no." He frowned. "Make that a _two_ man, one boy army."

They both ignored Henry's offended, "Hey!"

"And we don't know exactly what we're up against with this curse Regina placed on the Princess," he continued. "We can't afford to lose you to the Dark One's whims."

Killian pressed his lips together, thinking. David had a point. And, after all, his tête-à-tête with the Crocodile had surely given his companions enough clues to piece together a rough idea of his history with Rumpelstiltskin.

"Think of it this way," Henry added. "You'll have more people to watch your back when he comes after you."

With a faint, self-deprecating chuckle, Killian was forced to concede they were right. He nodded once. "Very well. The Dark One thinks I stole his wife."

The look on David's face was comical—a mix of confusion, disbelief, and horrified bafflement. Henry wasn't much better. Killian nearly laughed.

"His wife?" David asked.

"Aye." Killian nodded. Then he gestured into the forest with his good hand. "Do you think we might walk as I tell this delightful tale? We've miles to go before we sleep."

Henry adjusted his knapsack, and David slid his thumb behind the strap of his back to redistribute the load before they both nodded, and the three started off.

"You were saying about Ru—The Dark One's wife?" David prompted, belatedly remembering the Crocodile could hear his name across the realms when spoken.

Killian cleared his throat to give himself another moment to settle his heartrate. He gritted his teeth and resigned himself to sharing at least part of the story. Now that he had started this journey, he was loathe to abandon it and the companions he had made.

"Before he was the Dark One, he was just a man," Killian began. "A puny, cowardly man, at that. His wife—"

"Let me guess," David interrupted. "Milah?"

"Right in one. Milah," Killian admitted. He took a deep breath, not sure if he fought off the memory of her death or fought for a clear vision of the face that had been slowly fading over the centuries. Oh, he knew the facts: dark hair, fair skin, grey-green eyes, and high cheekbones. But the details, the exact configuration of her features had blurred over time, and that fact made her all the more difficult to speak about, because he felt so bloody guilty. How could he possibly forget her?

"She was unhappy in her marriage. I met her in a tavern near the docks one day when my ship was in the port near her home to resupply and undertake some repairs. Milah was…like a captive wildfire. She diced, and she drank, and she laughed with her whole body. She was stunning."

He swallowed, pushing down the pain of the memory as he cleared away the underbrush they waded through with more force than necessary.

"The day we were set to leave, I found Milah at the docks, just staring at the ships. I only intended to bid her farewell. She begged me to take her with us, to smuggle her out on the ship. She swore she would do anything if I'd only take her with us. I agreed. When her husband showed up, I told him he was welcome to try and take her from me. The coward wouldn't even try, so I had him removed from my deck. The next time I saw Milah's husband, he was the Dark One."

"But by then you'd fallen in love with her," Henry guessed.

Killian glanced at the boy and saw his bright, open smile. It was free of judgment. Henry saw the romance and the adventure. It never occurred to him that there might have been darker or baser reasons for a pirate to want to keep a woman aboard his ship—not that that had been an issue with Milah. She could fight like a wildcat, even before he'd taught her how to use a weapon. The lad's acceptance returned a measure of peace to him, and he smiled at Henry's eagerness for the rest of the story.

"That I did, lad," he admitted. "Milah started out as a crewmember, though I'll admit to sharing my quarters with her from the outset. Even before she mastered the sword, she was a hellion in a fight. She was fearless, and she fought dirty. She cheated at dice better than anyone I'd ever met, and I made her teach me how. We fell in love and remained faithful for seven years. And then the Crocodile ripped her heart out in front of me and crushed it to dust before he took my hand. I've wanted to kill him ever since."

David and Henry allowed him a moment of silent walking to catch his breath. David even reached out and patted his shoulder. He chuckled a little, and said, "While I don't condone running off with someone who was already married, I do understand falling in love with a strong, stubborn woman."

When Killian raised an eyebrow in question, David pointed to a spot on his chin covered by his beard. "The first time I met my wife, she hit me in the face with a rock. I still have a scar."

He laughed, grateful for the shepherd's commiseration. He took a few deep breaths, wishing that he could smell the salt of the ocean rather than the musk of the forest. But deep breathing and continued movement helped to ease the pain until he could return it to its proper place in the corner of his mind. When he felt like he could speak again, Killian turned to David. "What about you? You were part of the team that caught the Dark One?"

"Yes, I was," he admitted. "He had made a deal with Princess Ella of the Eastern Kingdom, and was coming to collect his price—her first born child."

"What?"

"Ella made a deal with the Dark One without fully understanding the consequences," David explained. "The Dark One asked for her first born in return for upholding his end. We—that is, Prince Thomas, Princess Ella, and their allies from Saint-George—managed to trap him and confine him in a magic-dampening cell converted from an exhausted dwarf mine."

"From what the Crocodile said, he _let_ you take him," Killian pointed out.

"Mm," David agreed. "I have no idea why he would do that, but I can believe it of him."

"He said something about it being useful to him at the time," Henry recalled. "Maybe he needed to hide somewhere that dampened magic, and then when he was safe, he could leave."

"The Dark One?" David asked skeptically. "Why would the Dark One need to hide from anything?"

"He mentioned something about a curse," Killian said.

"A curse that _he_ would need protection from?" David mused.

"You did say the cell was made to dampen magic," he said. "Perhaps that includes magic from outside the cell?"

David was quiet as he thought it over. Killian had to admit, it was an uncomfortable prospect. What kind of curse would be so dark, do powerful, that the Dark One himself would seek protection from it?

Eventually, the shepherd sighed and shook his head.

"It hardly matters now, I suppose," David concluded. "Whatever was supposed to happen never occurred, and the Dark One is free now."

"And Princess Ella kept her daughter, but lost her husband," Henry said.

"And was subsequently banished from court by the King," David concluded. "It was quite a scandal."

Killian frowned. "Henry mentioned something about that before. Why would the King banish his own daughter?"

"Daughter-in-law," David corrected. "King Thomas the Elder blamed Ella for his son's disappearance. It was Ella who made the deal with the Dark One. The King felt that Ella should have been the one to pay the price, not Prince Thomas."

"A fair assessment," Killian said. "Though I doubt the Crocodile cared about being fair at the time."

"It seems harsh to me," David said, frowning.

"People make choices," he said. "Sometimes they're wrong choices, but you have to live with the consequences." He certainly had. "If this Ella-lass hadn't made a deal with the Dark One, then the Prince would still be alive and free. Sometimes the results of our actions, no matter how good our intentions may be, fall hard on those we love."

"But it's not fair," Henry protested, shaking his head.

Killian nodded. "I'll not argue that. It _is_ harsh. It is ugly. It's in no way fair. But that is sometimes the way of things. Best to learn that lesson now, lad. It will save you heartache in the future."

Both of his companions wore mulish expressions, their jaws jutted out in stubborn refusal of his advice. They were both generous souls who kept an optimistic outlook on life, even David, who Killian felt should know better. As they walked on in an uncomfortable silence, Killian felt the muscles in his shoulders tighten under their judgment of his words. He could feel Henry's disappointment in him. David's discontent practically curdled the air around them.

The whole situation made him inclined to desert them now. Who were they to judge his opinions? The lad he could understand, not having lived out in the world. But David was a man grown. He had seen the way the world works.

Well, fine. Killian knew damn well what he was on about. It was a lesson he had learned over and over in his life. As a boy, he had been the one to bring home the illness that killed his mother but somehow released _him_ after a few days of fever. Then in Neverland, he had goaded his brother into making a stupid gesture of faith in their king that had ended Liam's life. He had insulted and scorned a powerful sorcerer who killed his beloved in retribution. Killian knew what he was on about, and yet his companions refused to believe. More fools them.

Which was why it was such a surprise when David said, "You have a point."

Killian actually stopped. He tilted his head, lifted a brow, and asked, "What was that, mate?"

"Don't push it, Jones," the shepherd grumbled. "And keep moving. Weren't you the one who wanted to put as much distance between us and the Dark Castle as possible?"

Killian started forward again, a new smile on his face.

"But yes," David continued. "You're right. Too often we make choices for which those we love pay the price."

"But it shouldn't be like that," Henry protested. "It's not right."

"The people we love shouldn't be held accountable for our actions, true," David agreed. "But the world doesn't always do what it should. Which is why I think we should probably pick up the pace. I want as much distance between us and the Dark One as we can get before sundown."

"It probably won't help," Henry pointed out even as he scampered to keep up with the longer strides of the two men. "The Dark One can just appear wherever he wants."

"Well, it will make me feel better, anyway," David replied.

"I agree with the shepherd," Killian voted.

So off they trudged, the mood between them still a bit tense, but much improved with the airing of their pasts. They even managed to pick up their pace for the first few miles. They ate on the move when midday came around, but their luck in finding the magical short cut Rumpelstiltskin promised seemed to have left them. This time they were not so lucky in finding the wandering magical loop in the forest. And as a deeper blow to Killian's pride, David had been correct in his assessment of his and Henry's abilities to adjust to the thin mountain air. The boy was nearing exhaustion before the sun was even close to setting, and Killian was out of breath and losing stamina.

When they broke for the night, David took responsibility for setting up camp and standing first watch while Killian and Henry ate and turned in early. The next morning Killian, having taken over for David at midnight, woke his companions and parceled out breakfast of hard little apples, the last of the bread, and the refilled canteens.

"We seem to be getting low on provisions again," he observed. "We've only got some salted mutton and root vegetables left."

"Don't worry," Henry said. "We had luck yesterday, we'll have luck today, too. I can feel it."

"Has anyone ever told you that your unremittent optimism is a tad off-putting first thing in the morning?" Killian asked.

"Once or twice," the boy admitted with a smile.

"Let's head out," David directed. "We should be able to find some edible plants as we go. We can find a good stream, too, and fish for lunch."

"Glad you know your way about the forest mate," Killian admitted.

"See?" David smirked. "I knew you'd be glad I tagged along."

"As you said yesterday, mate, don't push your luck."

The trio walked on, deeper into the forest. Killian was not overly familiar with arboreal species, but even he could see that the types of trees were changing once again from thick-trunked, leafless oaks to a realm solely inhabited by drooping evergreens. Their spiny needles occasionally dripped cold snowmelt onto their shoulders. But by late morning, another of the seasonal shifts that occurred in the deep forest transformed the forest. At noon, the trio found a sun-warmed glade where summer-ripe berries still clung to bushes surrounding a small pond that flowed out into a sluggish little stream.

"This looks like a good spot to fish," David announced. "And I think I see some blueberries on the other side of the pond there. Henry, how about you go get us some dessert? I'll find a stick to use as a fishing pole."

"Find me one, too, mate," Killian said. "I'll start the fire going, and look for some bait."

"You know how to fish?" David asked.

"No need to sound so surprised," he replied. "I've lived aboard ship for most of my life. Of course I know how to fish, and usually for larger catches than we're likely to find here."

"Let me guess, the one that got away was thiiiiis big?" David joked as he held his hands far out to his sides, smirking at Killian.

Killian grinned back. "Nothing gets away from me, mate," he boasted. "I always catch what I angle for."

David shook his head and turned into the trees to search out a few branches suitable for their needs. Killian, meanwhile, pulled out the small shovel David had had the foresight to bring along in his pack and commenced to dig a fire pit. Any little squirming things he unearthed, Killian put into the shepherd's tin cup. Payback for doubting his fishing abilities. Once the hole was large enough and the cup contained a heavy handful of worms and grubs, Killian set some tinder, struck a spark with flint and his hook, and set a small blaze going for them to cook their supper.

Task complete, he stood, brushed his legs clean of dirt, and looked for his companions. Henry was still picking blueberries from the cluster of bushes across the little pond, although the stains Killian could see around the boy's mouth suggested at least half his haul was being ingested on the spot. And David…

David currently appeared to be in a staring match with a tree several feet away. Killian left the fire pit and joined him beside the tree the shepherd found so fascinating. "What have you found?"

David raised his free hand, the other holding three newly cut fishing poles, and brushed his fingers over a scar on the trunk of the tall evergreen. "What shape would you call that?"

Killian considered the mark. It was old, the exposed flesh of the tree already a dull grey-brown so that it nearly disappeared into the surrounding bark. It was not something he would have noticed as being out of the ordinary, but now that David had pointed it out, the mark was clearly deliberate.

"It looks like a hook," he said, holding up his own.

"Or a crescent moon, perhaps?" David suggested.

"Aye, that it could be. Do you know what it means?"

"I think so," David said. "It means I may know someone in the area. A friend. Someone who can help us, even if just to get us some more supplies."

With that, David set down the poles, and pulled off his jerkin and then his shirt. He took the cloth and rubbed it over the mark on the tree, paying special attention to rub the sweat-stained underarms into the grooves of the bark.

"Well, that's mildly disgusting," Killian observed. "Care to explain?"

"I'm leaving my scent," he explained, re-donning his clothes. "If she's in the area, my friend will be able to find me, and she can help us."

Killian smirked at him. "Old flame?"

The slightly nauseous expression on David's face was answer enough, but he reinforced it with an emphatic, "No! Gods, no. She's practically my sister."

"If you say so, mate," Killian said, chuckling.

"I most certainly do," he insisted. David even shuddered a tad as he picked up the dropped poles.

Killian chuckled at his discomfort. But in all seriousness, he asked, "You really think this friend of yours can, or _will_ , help us?"

"I'm sure of it," the shepherd said as they walked back to camp where Henry now waited, adding more dry fuel to the fire Killian had built. "If nothing else, we can have venison for dinner for a few nights. She's…a very good hunter."

"A change of fare would be nice," Killian said, picking up the bait pail and ball of twine, again from the shepherd's supplies.

"It certainly wo—is that my cup?"

* * *

The three spent several hours of laughter and relaxation fishing and cooking their catch, though David was not best pleased with Killian's choice of bait bucket. All in all, though, Killian couldn't recall the last time he had such a fine afternoon. Not since Milah died, he was certain. Relaxation was hardly a common pastime on that accursed island. And friends were not a commodity a pirate tended to accumulate if he was successful.

But David's grumbling over his cup, their competitive boasting as they each tried to catch the biggest or the most fish, and Henry's green pallor when he watched Killian gut the trout with his hook were bright memories dropped into the dark pool of his long life, spreading ripples of contentment while they lasted, and finally lay shining like gems under the dark currents of his quest for vengeance.

They set off again a few hours before sunset, hoping to cover a few more miles before dark. Just like the day before, the magical short cut that was to take them into the eastern forest evaded them for another day. The laughter of midday returned to silence as they each focused on pushing through the undergrowth and trudging up an increasingly steep incline. They were now headed into the high Northern Mountains, and the terrain was more punishing than Killian had imagined. His feet and back ached from the trek. His satchel weighed down on his shoulder, causing a crick in his neck. But pride demanded that if David, who was physically older than he, could journey on without complaint, so could he.

In the end, much to Killian's relief, it was Henry who forced them to call a halt before sunset when his pace began to slow. David called a halt and tended to Henry's blisters while Killian set up camp. Henry was nearly asleep before he had finished the last of the meager dinner rations. As had become their custom, David took the first watch, and Killian stretched out atop his coat, using his satchel as a pillow.

As the embers died and a nearly full moon rode the treetops overhead, Killian mused over the comradery he had felt that afternoon. Had had not had mates he could just be himself with—Killian, not Hook, or even Captain—since his brother had died. He saw parts of himself as a boy in Henry. It was the hope and optimism that Henry carried with him, the belief that everything would work out for the best no matter what, that resonated with Killian. He remembered a time when he had believed that the world was full of adventure and joy, and he could not wait to face every challenge with Liam by his side. Henry's enthusiasm inspired Killian with an affection and protectiveness he had thought long-since quashed.

And David… David reminded him of Liam. Killian now realized that, quite unknowingly, he had allowed the shepherd to become the leader of their expedition. Part of it was his superior knowledge of the forest, but he acknowledged that a great deal of it was the confidence and fortitude that David possessed. Liam had been the same. His calm determination was the mortar that held them together after their father left them. Liam had kept Killian steady, making sure he ate and worked and kept his head down, as even as a child, Killian's temper got him into trouble. David, too, seemed to have an influence over Killian that quelled his anger and steadied his mind when he began to brood.

Frankly, it was disconcerting. He laid awake, staring at the sky for hours despite how weary his body was. If he allowed them to grind away his rage, what would be left of Milah's memory? If he was no longer Captain Hook, scourge of the high seas and terror of merchants everywhere, who was he? If he softened, how deeply could he be hurt?

He pushed the thoughts aside to deal with later. Instead, he called up Milah's image and focused on the last moments of her life to remind himself of his purpose. Then he forced himself to try and sleep, knowing that they still had a long way to go before they reached the Princess who Henry insisted had the power to make his dream of Rumpelstiltskin's death come true.

But seconds after he closed his eyes, the crack of twigs and rustle of leaves from all sides of camp announced the arrival of unexpected guests.

Killian and David were on their feet, swords in hand, in one heartbeat. They stood on either side of Henry who remained in the peaceful sleep of an exhausted child. The men kept their backs to one another as they faced the surrounding forest. Whoever was out there had stopped moving, but Killian strained to make out any noise to let him know where the newcomers were. For a long moment, Killian only heard their own breathing and the drumming of his pulse in his ears. Their guests remained quiet, waiting.

"Show yourselves!" David called out.

There was another beat of silence, and Killian adjusted his grip on the hilt of his sword. And then there was a rustle of movement in the trees.

"David?"

It was a woman's voice, a lovely mezzo-soprano coming from the left. Killian glanced behind him to find David lowering his sword slightly. The shepherd's brows lifted, and a hesitant smile touched the corners of his mouth behind the beard.

"Red?"

Red? Killian wondered if it was some kind of code. Was the appropriate response blood, roses, or rubies?

"Stand down," the woman called to her companions. A moment later she entered the rig of firelight and flung herself into David's waiting open arms. The two laughed and slapped one another on the back, and tears welled and dropped from the woman's eyes. "It _is_ you! I thought you were dead!"

Killian lowered his weapon. From the surrounding forest a group of six men and women emerged into the ring of light around their banked fire. The oldest was a man with nearly white hair and a grizzled beard. The youngest was a girl of fourteen or so, unremarkable except for the eerie way the light from the campfire reflected in her eyes. The other four ranged in ages between the two, but they all had a feral look about them from their clothing which was tattered and darned in places, to the furtive movements they made as they sized up the men.

Henry muttered and opened his eyes, blinking at the new people around him.

"Go back to sleep, lad," Killian said. "David seems to have found us some allies, and appears to be having a happy reunion."

Henry rolled over to look at the shepherd, who was grasping the arms of the dark-haired leader of the hodgepodge forest band. The two smiled widely at one another, each refusing to let the other go. There were several inches between their bodies, however, and their posture did not strike Killian as particularly romantic, but their affection for one another was clear.

Finally remembering his own party, David turned, releasing one of the woman's arms, and gestured to Killian and the boy.

"Let me introduce you. This is Captain Jones, also called Hook."

Killian sheathed his sword and gave her a deep bow punctuated with a wink and a smile—a tactic he had used successfully on women for years. It was guaranteed to either annoy them greatly or entice them. "My lady."

"And the other is Henry, who has had a long journey and should probably be sleeping," David said, pointing to the lad.

"I'm awake now," Henry protested. "What's going on?"

"I found a marking on a tree by the pond we stopped at for lunch," David explained. "I recognized it, and hoped it meant that friends were in the area. It turns out I was right. Hook, Henry, this is my dear friend Red. She's the closest thing I've ever had to a sister."

Killian watched her face when David called her a sister, and was surprised to see that she neither blinked nor flinched. Apparently David had told the truth that there was nothing romantic between them. They both seemed content with a sibling relationship. It was not something he had ever personally had experience with—a platonic or familial relationship with a woman who was not actually related to him—but it seemed to be what these two had.

"Nice to meet you, Captain, Henry," Red said. "And these are my people: Govery, Tanner, Link, Mara, Jeb, and Fay."

Killian nodded his respects, but kept an eye on them as the little group found places together on the other side of the fire from him and Henry. There was something about them that set his teeth on edge and made him want to re-draw his sword as a precaution.

"Now tell me, what are you doing out here?" Red asked David. "The last time I saw you…well…."

"I didn't look too good, I'm sure," David replied, a bit ruefully.

Killian recalled David telling them that he had lost his family in the war. If that was the last time this Red person had seen the shepherd, no doubt he had looked rough. He remembered his own reflection in the weeks after both Liam's and Milah's deaths. "Haggard" and "unkempt" were only two of the words that could have been used to describe him, if not "crazed."

"After Grumpy and his brothers left," David explained, "I just…lost hope. Lost direction. I don't think I actually meant to leave camp. I remember I wanted to take a walk, clear my head. Then I guess I just…kept on walking. I didn't stop for a long time."

"Is that how you ended up here?" Red asked.

"Let's sit down," David suggested. "This is going to be a long story. Actually, it starts with Henry." He smiled at the boy as he and his friend took a seat. "So kid, you want to kick off story time?"

Henry sat up straighter, rubbing his eyes, and grinned. "Sure!"

As Henry launched into his tale of leaving home to seek out the lost Princess, Killian returned to his own spot by the fire. He let the boy's story flow over him, already familiar with it, and instead observed David's friend.

She was tall and lean. Though she looked to be about the same age as David—she was easily in her fifties—it was a well-kept middle age. Her hair was dark and curly, and except for lines of tension on her forehead and around her wide-spaced eyes, she still held onto the high-cheeked beauty of her youth. But, like her companions on the other side of the fire, her eyes caught the light strangely. If Killian had hackles, they would be raised.

Aside from her lovely face, there was nothing much remarkable about the woman that he could see. She was dressed in a plain, home-spun skirt and blouse with an embroidered bodice that had been mended in several places. The simple stitching provided her only ornamentation. Her boots were old leather, though they appeared well cared for. Her cloak, like her name, was red, and again it was only the embroidery of the cloak that offered her any decoration. She had no gold or silver jewelry, no precious stones, not even a murky amethyst. Except for the bright cloak, her clothing was all in the colors of the forest—green, brown, and grey.

When Henry was through with his part of the tale, David picked up with their meeting at his croft. Henry slowly lay back down, his determination to stay awake and be part of the discussion battling with his body's need for rest. But before David reached their meeting with the Dark One, the boy was asleep once more.

"The Dark One?" Red exclaimed. She case a wary look at David. "He couldn't have been too happy to see _you_."

"Actually, he seemed to save most of his venom for the Captain, here."

Red raised an eloquent brow at him. Killian responded with a smirk and a shrug. "The Dark One and I have a complicated history. Frankly, I'm as surprised as anyone that he let me live."

"Anyway," David continued. "He pointed us in this direction. He said that we should head toward a short-cut somewhere in this valley that will take us into the eastern part of the forest, then we are to head north to a mountain lake where…where he believes that the missing princess might be hiding from the Evil Queen."

Red grabbed his arm and leaned in, her expression intent. "You're looking for her again? You really think she's still alive?"

"If Henry's source is right—and I think he is—then yes."

Red was quiet a long moment, her gaze distant as she thought. She looked over to her friends who all waited for her response with an eerie, animalistic silence. Finally, she nodded. "We'll aide you in your search."

"We will?" challenged one the men—Tanner, Killian recalled. He was thickly muscled with heavy brows, and he had worn a scowl on his face since the moment he had entered the clearing with the others.

"Yes," Red affirmed with a sharp look at the man. "We will." Then she asked David, "What do you need?"

David smiled. "Right now, we need supplies. We're out of meat, bread, fruit, and vegetables. We've been fishing and foraging as we can, but I don't know the forest like…."

He stopped suddenly, voice breaking, and a deep wince cut across his face. Red reached out a hand and gently placed it over his.

"Well of course she knew the forest," Red said, her smile sad. "After all, I taught… _Mary_ everything she knew." She patted David's hand before letting go. "Now, fresh game we can provide you with, obviously. We're not much for fruits or vegetables in my group."

The six men and women shared a chuckle with their leader. Then one of the men, the oldest, said, "We do know a few families in the forest that we trade with."

Red nodded. "The King's Road isn't too far from here, and there's an inn run by a woman named Gretel and her brother. We've traded with them before. In fact…Fay? Can you run ahead and see if The Compass has anything they can spare?"

The youngest of the foresters nodded to Red. The girl stood up, brushed off her skirt, and then loped off into the trees without a second thought. In seconds, she was lost into the shadows of the forest.

Killian frowned. "She's going now? In the middle of the night?"

"Don't worry about Fay," Red said, waving off his concern. "Nothing short of a bear could harm her. And even a bear would think twice."

"So you're really coming, then?" David asked her. "I don't know how long it will take to find her, and even when we do, we'll still have a fight on our hands. After she's freed, no doubt the Princess will want to take back the kingdom from Regina."

"All the more reason for us to join you, then," Red insisted. "Two men and a boy aren't much of an army. My pack knows this part of the forest, and you know from past experience that werewolves make formidable allies."

"Excuse me?" Killian exclaimed. "Werewolves?"

His hand had moved automatically to the hilt of his sword. An inch of the blade was already clear of the scabbard. Killian glanced over at the five remaining people—bloody werewolves—across the fire. The reflected firelight in their eyes made sense now. They had wolves' eyes.

"Calm down," David said. "Red has full control, and I'm certain her pack does as well, if she's leading them."

"They do," Red confirmed.

Killian clenched his jaw and forced himself to take a deep breath. "Apologies. I've never met one of your kind before, and the tales I've heard…well?" he said without releasing his grip on his sword.

"Understandable," Red acknowledged. "There are some pretty gruesome tales of pirates, too."

Killian raised a brow at her.

Red smiled in reply. "Come now, Captain, it wasn't that hard to figure out. You're hardly the image of a simple merchant."

Right there, Killian decided he liked her. He smiled without malice. Releasing his weapon, he held his hands out to his sides and offered as deep a bow as possible while sitting down. "You have me there, my lady. Well played."

He looked over at David to find the shepherd smirking at him. Apparently he was no good at subterfuge. It was why he usually never bothered.

"So, since you've decided to join our quest, as Henry calls it, what's your goal? What is your _happy ending_ that this Princess is supposed to provide?" he asked. "Is it a cure for your curse? Amnesty for all lupine inhabitants of the kingdom?"

"No," Red said. "I'm not in this for a reward."

"Then why?"

"I knew the Princess's mother," she said. "She was the true queen of this realm. I'm doing this for her."

Her answer was a simple one, loyalty, and Killian believed her. Once, he had had it, too. He wondered if Red's loyalty would earn her the same reward that his him.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I have to admit, the fishing scene is one of my favorites from this fic. What did you think?

Next chapter, our intrepid questers have their first battle as they get closer to finding the Lost Princess!


	7. A Wrinkle in the Forest

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of _Once Upon a Time_. This is story is not intended for profit, just as a tribute to the amazing writing, characters, and intricate plots therein.

 **Additional Disclaimer:** I've borrowed "tesseract" from Madeleine L'Engle's A Wrinkle in Time, which also inspired the title of this chapter.

 **Author's Note:** So, clearly Sunday's episode, "Birth," was OUaT's version of the Red Wedding from "Game of Thrones." I think it will take me the whole two week break just to recover! Thus, in order to comfort my shocked and grieving heart (and hopefully provide succor to yours, as well, dear readers) here's a new chapter.

Also, journey bread is a real thing. In ye olden times, it was a long-lasting, portable meal, kind of like a Lunchable today. It packed a bunch of calories (fruit, nuts, buttermilk, molasses, and sometimes even meat) into an easy-to-carry loaf. Like fruitcake, actually. You can find recipes for it online. Just search for Journey Bread or Journey Cake Recipes.

 _ **Also, Willofthewisp is amazing! Thank you for beta'ing, and good luck with merging the bomb dropped on Sunday into "Hearts and Monsters!"**_

 **Chapter 7: A Wrinkle in the Forest**

* * *

The next morning the humans and werewolves set out at sunrise. Their first stop was at the site of the werewolf pack's home—an abandoned fort from centuries prior. The wolves had repaired some of the buildings for sleeping and storage. They gathered up another dozen water skeins and a huge supply of dried and salted meat. Fay, the littlest wolf, met up with them at mid-morning, bearing two sacks: one full of journey bread and the other of hearty fruits and root vegetables.

Fully provisioned, they set out. David and Red led the way, remaining close to one another, swapping stories. Killian and Henry followed far enough away that he could not make out the words of their conversation, and Henry chatted at him to fill the space. The rest of the wolves ranged out around them, which caused a tight knot in Killian's shoulders for the first few days.

Henry, however, loved having more people to talk to. With his eager openness, the lad was accepted by the newcomers little reservation. During their rest stops, Red positively doted on him. Henry revived the storytelling game, and it kept them all in good humor for days.

True to her word, Red and the pack kept them all in fresh game during their travels. Red herself found both edible and medicinal plants almost every yard. Most of them proved to be good traveling companions, and even taciturn Govery, the oldest wolf, warmed up enough to play a little wooden flute at night during dinner. The only fly in the ointment was Red's second-in-command, Tanner, who enjoyed grumbling at even the slightest provocation, refused to converse with the mere humans, and made pithy remarks just under his breath about every perceived delay. Red insisted the man stay to the front of the group as a scout, thus limiting the time he would have to spend around the rest of the travelers and allowing them a more pleasant journey.

Even so, it was nearly a full week before Killian noticed that the trees suddenly began to thin, and a distant sparkle of reflected sunlight shone from the side of one of the mountain peaks. He pulled his spyglass and adjusted it to focus on the distant glimmer. A thin waterfall plummeted down from a crack midway up the mountain, between two twisted little pines that clung to the rock-face. They must have finally found the magical loop the Crocodile promised, though it must have wandered farther from the Dark Castle than the reptilian bastard had thought.

Their luck held. In two hours, another magical tesseract deposited them halfway up the mountain, close enough to the falls that they had to shout to hear one another. The stones underfoot were slick with green slime, and moss grew thick on the nearby trees. The spray from the falls cast a mist over the entire area, making it hard to see, compounding the unease Killian felt at his loss of hearing caused by the deafening thunder of the falls. As a sailor, he knew the dangers that could lurk in a fog. Unsuspected rocks could be the least of their worries.

His peace of mind was not improved when wolves began jolting and starting, followed inevitably by a glance to the drop-off. He watched Mara and Govery cock their heads as if trying to pick up a sound from the forest that had caught their attention. Killian tried to listen for whatever they heard, but he could make out nothing over the rush and tumble of the falls.

"Wait!" one of the wolves, Tanner, called out.

"What is it?" Red asked, coming up from behind to join Tanner at the head of their party.

"It smells wrong," he reported. "I've never smelled anything like it before. It's like…" He stopped to sniff. "It smells like mildew and wet fur. And carrion."

"Not that surprising, mate," Killian pointed out, rolling his eyes. "The mist-drenched stone explains the scent of mildew. As for the carrion, I doubt you're the only predators around these parts. There's likely a bear's leftovers rotting nearby. And the wet fur…well?" He chuckled as he gestured toward the werewolf himself.

David elbowed him in the side and cut him a sharp glance. He had spent the days since the two groups had joined mediating the exchanges between Killian and the werewolf, but Killian could hardly help himself. During their week of travel, Killian's opinion of Tanner had solidified. He was abrasive and loud without the benefit of being intelligent, constantly complaining about the stench of humans scaring away the game, or swearing that he sensed some presence which turned out to be a squirrel. Killian had no respect for him and wondered how he had come to be Red's second at all. He could not help poking at him.

In response to the wet fur comment, Red narrowed her eyes at Killian while Tanner growled. "You're not as funny as you think you are," the lady said. She then turned to her packmate. "Tanner, do you smell anything else more distinct?"

Another moment of the man's petulance passed before he answered, "No. This isn't like anything I've ever smelled before."

"Well, we're in a part of the forest outside our territory," Red comforted him, patting Tanner's shoulder to help soothe his ego. "We'll keep an eye and a nose out for anything strange."

They proceeded more slowly, and Red stayed to the front, acting as vanguard with Tanner. Mara and Link lifted their noses to sniff the air, and the lady-wolf sneezed in response to whatever she smelled. Govery travelled just ahead of Killian, and he, too, scented the air, his thin lips pulling back over his teeth in a silent snarl as his eyes darted around them.

Leaving Henry at the rear of the group with the two youngest werewolves, Fay and Jeb, David remained close to Killian. From the frown on the shepherd's face, Killian knew he was in for another chastisement. It was becoming predictable.

"You shouldn't antagonize them," David scolded. "They're the only allies we have, and they've already helped us a great deal by providing supplies and protection at night."

"I wasn't intending to antagonize them _all_ ," Killian replied. "Tanner annoys me. Besides, the wolf isn't the only one who feels off in this place. I can't shake the feeling that something is hiding in this mist."

"Just try not to make an enemy of Tanner," David said. "Keep a clear head. We just need to make it to the top of the waterfall, and the mist will clear."

"I'll try, mate. I'll feel better when we're out of this damn fog."

The creeping unease had already increased in the last few minutes. Clouds had rolled in and hidden the sun, adding to the gloom. The entire path was monochrome gray, with the dim outline of the forest on right and a long drop on the left.

Suddenly, Killian spotted movement from the corner of his eye. From behind boulders along the path, down from the cliffs above on slimy ropes, and up from the chasm below, on clawed fingers and toes, came trolls. His heart slammed in his chest when he realized what he faced. Bridge trolls. The kind that liked to eat unwary travelers.

"Get them!" the lead troll bellowed, his voice like a rockslide.

"Bloody buggering hell," Killian swore as he pulled his sword.

"I second that," David answered while doing the same. He twisted back and shouted to Fay and Jeb, "Protect Henry!"

The two men ran forward to support the werewolves as the trolls, eight—no ten—no, _thirteen_ of the creatures came at them fast. Killian had never actually seen a troll before, but he had heard stories of the grey-skinned, craggy brutes who preferred the rocky mountainous terrain of the Infinite Forest. They were as fearsome as the stories told, shaggy beasts, taller and broader than a man, and sporting sharp-toothed underbites. They carried clubs and crude swords they swung hard with their powerful arms.

The leader managed to clip the side of Tanner's head before David and Killian could reach them. Another troll drove Red back with a swipe at her midsection with its jagged blade. A third grappled with one of the other wolves, Mara, with its bare hands.

Once he was closer, even Killian could identify the stench that rolled off the bridge trolls. Just as the wolf had said: mildew, damp fur, and carrion. He parried the sword of a third troll just in time to duck under a swinging club of another. He could feel the tails of his long coat flaring out behind him as he spun around and drove his sword into the back of one of his assailants.

The troll howled as it fell face down and did not rise again.

The second troll—leaner than the dead one, with a bald head and a broken left tusk—glanced down at his fallen comrade. The death of his friend caused it to hesitate only a heartbeat before he came at Killian again. Killian noted the troll's shuffling gait, listing slightly harder and lower on the left. The troll was more cautious this time, but was still nowhere near as skilled as Killian. The pirate deflected two more blows until he swept under its arm, and drove the point of his hook into the troll's neck. A wet gurgle proceeded this one's death.

Killian wrenched the hook out of his opponent's throat, and turned to see if he could be of use anywhere else in the fight. David stood his ground mere steps away facing off with two of his own combatants. Somewhat to his shock, Mara picked up one of the trolls, held it above her head for a moment, and tossed it over the side of the cliff into the waterfall. He wondered if his own surprise had been as blatant as that of the troll when it had found itself lifted by such a dainty woman. Killian made a note not to disregard the strength of the werewolf pack. Or the speed, he thought as the wiry male, Link, became a deadly whirlwind, dismembering two trolls in seconds with his bare hands.

A whoosh caught his attention as a crossbow bolt flew past his head and sunk deep into the chest of a troll directly behind him. Killian watched the troll topple forward, a club still raised in its hand. He looked back toward the direction of the bolt, and saw Red with the crossbow in one hand while she threw her other fist into the face of a troll foolish enough to engage her in hand-to-hand combat.

One more troll slipped past the front line, and rushed to the rear of the group. Killian turned and saw the troll's target. Henry stood wide-eyed, pale, clutching one of the kitchen knives he had pilfered from the Jolly Roger, and alone while his companions were busy fending off their attackers.

The troll darted for the boy.

Killian sprinted after it.

The troll now blocked his view of the lad, but he heard Henry shout.

The troll raised his sword, elbow back and prepared for a skewering thrust.

Forsaking form and precision, Killian tackled the beast. The two tumbled to the ground with Killian on top. Unfortunately, he was at too bollixed-up an angle to use either sword or hook, and the troll outweighed him. They grappled a moment, but the troll flung him off. Killian went flying one way and his sword another. He landed on his back, the wind knocked out of him, his ears ringing, and his vision grey. It was only a moment, but it allowed the troll to advance again on Henry.

A snarl finally brought the world back to clarity. Killian blinked his eyes back into focus and watched the little wolf, Fay, launch herself between the troll and Henry, grabbing the meaty wrists of the troll and holding it off. Killian had not really believed Red when she boasted that even a bear would think twice about going against a werewolf, even a tiny one like the fourteen-year-old Fay. He believed her now. The waif held off her opponent, if not with ease then with an equal show of strength.

Killian rolled to his feet and spied his sword not far away. He dipped down, picked it up, and charged forward. He sunk his hook into the troll's thick shoulder muscle while he drove the point of his sword into its side. The beast yowled. Fay twisted the injured arm of the troll down, bringing it to one knee. Then she spun and kicked out, clipping its temple. The troll's eyes rolled back. It slumped to the ground, and Killian finished it off with a thrust to the heart.

"Retreat!"

He turned at the sound of the troll leader's voice. Those left standing—a mere five of the original baker's dozen—loped away, back down the side of the cliff. Killian looked around to assess the damage to his companions and was relieved to see it was minimal. Everyone—except Henry, thankfully—had blood on them. David's sword was stained in a manner indicating more slicing wounds were made than stab wounds. Tanner was clutching his arm to his chest, suggesting it might have been broken, but both of his hands had bloody knuckles. Red pressed her hand to her middle and struggled to catch her breath, but the expression on her face was anger rather than a great deal of pain. The other wolves had also sustained some damage, but everyone was alive and would heal.

Killian reached into his satchel and hooked out the scarf he had taken off when the climb up the mountains had overheated him. He did a quick, awkward cleaning of his blade before he sheathed it. With only the one hand, he would need to be seated before he could clean his sword properly.

Red called together her pack and David joined them. She was already in the process of dismantling her crossbow and he watched as she hid the weapon behind the folds of her scarlet cloak. He wondered what else she kept back there.

Killian, odd man out, went to check on Henry who still stood shock still off to the side. The boy was pale as milk. "Lad? You alright?"

"I…" Henry's breathing was too fast. "I think so."

He was shaking. Killian remembered his first battle. He had been older than Henry by six or seven years, after Liam had gotten him a post on a naval vessel, but he remembered the aftermath. Killian took Henry by the shoulder and led him to a boulder and made him sit.

"Lean forward and put your head between your knees, lad. Try to take deep, even breaths, or you're going to faint."

Henry did as he was told, his breath coming slower and slower. At first, the shaking got worse, but after a minute or two, it started to subside. "I just…I've never seen anything like that before. I've never been _attacked_."

"Well, you wanted an adventure," Killian pointed out. "What's an adventure without danger?"

"Yeah, but…I guess I just didn't think about what it would actually be like."

Killian looked up at the sound of footsteps and found David coming to join them.

"Henry? How you doing?"

"He's unharmed," Killian reported. "You can sit up now, lad. I think you're going to be fine." When Henry sat up, Killian gave him a smile and a nod. "You did well."

Henry shook his head, an irritated frown on his face. "I didn't do anything. I just stood there like an idiot."

"No," David said. "You did exactly what you should have done. You're the youngest, the least physically capable—"

"The weakest, you mean."

"Only because of your age and size," the shepherd insisted. "In another few years when you hit your growth spurt and start becoming a man, you'll be stronger. Until then, you did exactly what you should have. You stayed back and let those who _can_ fight protect you."

"And you didn't cry, wet yourself, or vomit," Killian pointed out. "I've seen grown men in their first fight do all three."

That seemed to appease the boy a bit, and after a deep breath, he stood up. His knees shook a tad, but Henry straightened his spine and adjusted the knapsack on his back. He smiled up at the two men and said, "Okay. I'm okay."

"Good lad," Killian said.

They rejoined the wolves and circled up so that everyone had a view outside the circle so that they could watch one another's backs. He turned to David. "What do you think? Was it was a trap set by the Queen?"

David's brow furrowed in thought a moment before he shook his head. "Trolls aren't really known for working well with anyone except another troll. They're very family and clan-oriented."

"And enjoy human flesh, apparently," the other female wolf, Mara, said.

"I once had one tell me that human meat was the sweetest," David said dryly.

"Delightful," Killian murmured.

"The point is," David said, "trolls are motivated by greed and their stomachs."

"And somehow I can't see Queen Regina stooping to hire trolls to do her dirty work," Red offered. "Not when she has her Black Knights and her magic."

"So this was a random attack, you think?"

"It felt like an opportunity they couldn't pass up," the old werewolf Govery said. "If we were hunting and came across a herd of easy prey, we would attack, too."

"The path here is probably used more by mountain goats and deer that go to the falls to drink," Mara said. "I imagine that's what they normally eat."

"If we had been a group of simple humans, we might be dead," Red observed.

"Good thing we're not," Tanner said, scowling at the simple humans among them.

"And I am glad that Hook, Henry, and I have such strong allies," David said, nodding to Tanner. "If we had been alone, we would likely not have survived."

The compliment seemed to appease the surly wolf.

"Even so," Red advised, "we should proceed carefully. Link and Jeb, I want you two to run ahead and scout out the way. I don't want any more surprises. Use your eyes, your ears, _and_ your noses."

The two young men nodded and quickly slipped into the shadows under the trees near their path. Dark, wiry Link disappeared easily. Jeb, barely out of his youth but more burly than his partner, was slower to fade into the forest. But within moments, both were gone from sight.

"Fay, I want you to stay with Henry at all times. Tanner, have Govery help you set and dress your arm. Then I want the two of you together at the rear of the group, guarding our backs in case the trolls decide to try again. I'll stay with David at the front, then Fay and Henry. Mara, I want you and the Captain to come next, followed by our rear guard."

Killian nodded his approval. Henry remained in the center, protected, and one wolf was paired with one swordsman in the center. They had a scout out there now, and a rear guard behind. It was smart, and he could have kicked himself for being so lax before. They should have been in formation the whole time. Apparently none of them had truly anticipated that there would be danger on this journey. It had been damn foolish of them, and they had nearly paid the price. He thanked whatever lucky star was watching over them that a few cuts, bruises, and one broken bone were all that they had suffered for their oversight.

They travelled more carefully the rest of the day. Link reported back to his pack leader occasionally that the way ahead was clear. They still kept their eyes and ears alert for any signs of attack, from any side. The forest along the mountainside was thinner than in the valley, but there was enough undergrowth to hide an enemy seeking to make a surprise assault. It was one of the things that set Killian's teeth on edge. At least on the water, you could see all sides of you and knew if you were going to be attacked with enough time to ready yourself. The forest offered too much cover for any enemies.

The clouds that had covered the sun since dawn finally moved off, and the mist from the waterfall was far behind them by the end of the day. The sinking sun set fire to the last of the clouds. Link had reported back to them that there was a small cave that would offer them some shelter for the night not far ahead. When they arrived, Killian was disappointed to see that the cave was more of a deep indention in the rock with a slight overhang to keep off dew. If it rained, they would still get wet.

The sky was clear, though. With a fire and the company, it was as safe and warm as anywhere else they had slept on this journey. They spent the first hour after sundown tending their wounds, cleaning weapons, and cooking the mountain goat that Link had killed and prepared for them as the rest of the party journeyed to meet their scout. The goat was tough and gamey, but with the roasted vegetables and toasted journey bread that had been provided by the wolves' ally, Gretel, it was a serviceable meal. They divided up sleeping shifts, and those who could went to sleep. Henry had nightmares. The next day, they started late as everyone was bruised and sore from yesterday's scuffle. When they finally moved out, the kept to formation and went slowly.

Early in the day, the scenery changed. The giant pines and fir of the forest below disappeared and small, twisted junipers took their place clinging to the mountain in thin soil. The predominant color of the mountains was the gray of the granite and shale around the valley cut by the stream they continued to follow broken by spikes of thorny green. Just before midday, Killian noticed David's preoccupation with a stretch of rough rock at about shoulder height.

"Something particularly interesting about the mountain, mate?" Killian asked.

"Something worrying about the debris on the mountain, actually," David replied.

Everyone came to a stop for a moment and scanned their surroundings. Nothing immediately evident of a threat, they all clustered around David. The shepherd pointed out a swath of the mountainside that appeared to have had a recent rockslide.

"What's so strange about that?" Killian asked. "Don't rockslides happen often in the mountains?"

"This wasn't a typical rockslide." David pointed out the horizontal line where the debris fell from. "A rock slide doesn't leave a smooth line like that. And look at the rocks that fell." He walked over to the rubble and sifted through the broken rocks until he found what he had apparently been looking for. David held it up so that everyone could get a good look while he rejoined them.

"See this? This isn't stone."

It was a grey, raggedly broken half circle. There was a slight ridge down the center, and when David flipped it over, Killian could see that the underside had an opalescent sheen, like the mother-of-pearl inside a plain clamshell.

The little wolf, Fay, leaned closer and sniffed. "It smells like…a snakeskin. But not."

"I've seen scales like this before," David said, "outside of a dragon's lair."

"Dragon?" It was a common exclamation, and Killian shared it with fully half the party with varying shades of surprise and concern. And excitement, in Henry's case.

"So you're saying there's a dragon around here?" Red asked.

"I think so," David confirmed. "I think it rubbed against the mountain to scratch."

"Is it close, you think?" Henry asked, bouncing on his toes.

"Let hope it isn't," Red said. "We were able to fight off the trolls, but I think a dragon is beyond our abilities."

"There aren't any other signs of a dragon," David mused. "Here's hoping it just stopped to scratch its back and then moved on."

"So we add looking _up_ to our list of places to monitor for attack," Killian said.

The day was even more fraught with tension after their discovery. Not only did they have to watch for Black Knights who were searching for Henry as well as trolls who wanted a quick meal, now they also feared every shadow and rustle nearby for the threat of a giant winged lizard.

Around noon, Link reported back to the group that there was another waterfall ahead. Luckily, it was not as steep as the previous cascade. In comparison, it was merely a water-stumble, Killian was relieved to notice. They traversed the side of the waterfall and found that the scenery at the top changed almost immediately. Gone were the bare rock walls, the thin, loose soil, and the short, twisted scrub. In their place was a lush plateau full of grass and low bushes—blackberry it appeared. Further on, there were trees once again had taken root. They did not reach quite the height of their cousins down in the forest below, but they were an improvement over the poor, twisted stumps of trees back in the valley they left.

No lake, though. The stream meandered on. They still had some travelling to do before they reached the Princess, apparently.

They had just begun the debate on whether to stop for dinner or continue on to make the most of the daylight when Red lifted her face to the sky and sniffed. Hackles raised all around when a shadow from above flew over. All eyes looked up. Killian scanned the sky and thought he saw a winged figure disappear over the tops of the trees but could not make out what it was.

"Anyone see it?" David called.

"No," came the chorused reply.

"I thought I caught a glimpse of it," Killian offered. "But it was gone before I made it out."

"Alright, everyone be wary," David said. "Just because we haven't seen the dragon doesn't mean it isn't here."

Killian refrained from making a comment, mainly because he noticed that he, too, tended to state the obvious when addressing others. He figured it was from years of shouting orders at underlings, some of whom were too foolish to tie their own bootlaces much less take note of what seemed apparent to him.

Twice more the shadow passed over them. Twice more, none of the party was able to catch more than a glimpse of it. Either the dragon was high in the sky, judging by the size of the shadow, or they were being followed by something else entirely. It was certainly long and winged, but it seemed to know exactly how and when to pass them, flying at an angle to the sun, so that the body of the beast was out of sight behind the treeline before even the keen-eyed werewolves were able to spot the living creature in the wake of its shadow.

"That argues for intelligence, whatever it is," Killian mused.

"That it does," David agreed. "And despite popular stories, I've only ever known one intelligent dragon, and _that_ was actually a sorceress with transformative abilities."

"So it may not be a dragon after all?" Killian asked.

"I honestly don't know."

"Comforting."

"Isn't it?"

They shared a grim smile.

Despite their worries, they passed unmolested into the trees. The sun set quickly when they once more had cover. They had just begun talk of making camp for the night when the werewolf Jeb ran back to report.

"We found it!"

"The lake?" Henry asked excitedly.

Jeb nodded. "It's not far. We can make it by sundown, maybe a bit after."

"Then let's go!" Henry exclaimed, starting to run.

He got two steps before Killian used his hook to snag the boy's knapsack—something he seemed to do a lot when Henry got an idea in his head. "Not so fast. We're still being followed, remember?"

"Hook is right," David said. "We can't let our guard down just because we've nearly reached our goal."

"If our luck now is like it was in the old days, we should probably be even more wary," Red supplied. "This is usually when our enemies like to lay traps."

"That means no running off," Killian clarified or the boy.

Fay came over and laid a consoling hand on Henry's shoulder. She smiled down at the younger boy and nodded. "A pack is strongest together."

Henry was disappointed, but he nodded that he understood. Together, cautiously, they continued on another hour. The sun sank rapidly, and a waning gibbous moon already hung in the eastern sky. Soon even Killian's fully human nose could smell the pooled water. It lacked the salinity he was accustomed to, but something about the scent still smelled more like home than the lofty pine boughs of the Enchanted Forest. Despite his own admonishments to Henry, Killian allowed the smell to lull him into a sense of peace and serenity.

They reached the lakeshore just as the sun made its final descent to the horizon. The second scout, Link, was seated on a crumbling log near the water's edge. When they approached, he stood and dusted off the seat of his trousers.

"This is it, isn't it?" Link asked. "This is where the Dark One sent you?"

"I believe so," David confirmed. "Rumpelstiltskin said to follow the stream to its origin, and the Princess would be here."

Killian looked around. The lake was a few hundred yards across and a bit longer, extending far off to their right where the glacier-capped mountain rose up into the clouds. From his minimal understanding of royalty, he assumed that there would be some kind of bower nearby that the Princess was holed up in…a hunting lodge, perhaps. Some remote castle. None was readily apparent, but pampered princesses were not known for roughing it.

"Should we try looking for her?" Mara asked.

"I think it might be best to wait for morning," Govery suggested with a differential nod to Red. "The humans' eyes will be better suited to a search then."

"Who needs the humans' eyes?" Tanner argued. "We have our noses and our ears. If anyone is here, we can find them in the dark as easily as the light."

Annoyed, Killian opened his mouth to advise the werewolf to play nicely with the humans who could easily kill him in his sleep, but stopped short when the shadow reappeared, flying over them much lower than before, still headed into the sinking sun, obscuring its form.

"The bloody thing is back," he cursed, drawing his sword.

Around him, others drew their weapons, as well. David had his sword, and Red had her crossbow out and assembled in a blink. The other wolves braced themselves, hands curled into claws and fists, teeth bared.

"No, wait!" Henry cried and darted out in front of them.

The shadow circled back, coming right for them, the rays of the sun shining behind it.

"Lad, move out of the way!" Killian called out as David shouted, "Henry, move!"

"No! Listen to me!" He held his hands up to stop them. "Rumpelstiltskin didn't say that the Princess would be here waiting for us, or that she would be here for us to find. He said that the Princess would be able to _make herself known_."

Red adjusted her grip on the crossbow, lowering it fractionally. David even relaxed his stance a tad. Though none of them took their eyes off the approaching shape that dipped closer and closer to the water.

The sun flashed once, causing Killian to blink, and in that instant, the shape touched down in the water. When the spots cleared from his eyes, Killian could make out the form of a swan beating its wings as it settled gracefully in the water only a few yards off shore. His heartbeat slowed from its anxious gallop as the bird paddled closer to them, tilting its head to eye each member of the party.

A swan. Hardly the threat he had been expecting. Killian could feel his sword arm relaxing, the point of his saber tilted toward the ground, as around him his companions likewise eased back from battle readiness.

The moment that the last rays of the sun died, leaving the silver glow of the moon to illuminate the lake's surface, a dark cloud of purple smoke enveloped the swan in a haze.

His grip on his sword tightened again, his inner thoughts echoing the shouts of dismay from the wolf pack. He recognized this smoke. Magic. Nothing good ever came from it. He fully expected a monster to appear and lunge for them any second.

Slowly, the swirl of purple smoke cleared. As it drifted away, a beautiful woman was revealed, dressed in a simple white gown, its hem in the water. A long cape as cerulean as the waters around a tropic isle hung from her shoulders. He heard Red gasp beside him.

Killian felt his own mouth open, perhaps to speak, but he could think of nothing to say.

This, then, must be the cursed Princess. All of Henry's stories were true. He could admit now with the proof standing in front of him that all this time, there had been a kernel of doubt in him. But here she stood, a swan into a princess.

She was lovely. And older than he had expected. Somehow he had gotten it into his head that she would be a young girl, perhaps just on the cusp of womanhood, barely older than Henry. But while she was still young—perhaps thirty—she was certainly no child. Her features were delicate in a round face with a stubborn chin. Her hair was long and golden, held back from her face by a twist of undyed fabric. Her eyes were some light color, but it was impossible to tell if they were green or blue in the deep twilight as she stared at each face in turn before coming to rest…on David.

"Emma?" he heard the shepherd choke out.

The Princess's face crumpled. "Father!"

The next instant she had picked up her skirts and splashed out of the water, into David's waiting arms.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** She's here! Was it everything you hoped it would be? Killian and Emma actually get to speak to one another next chapter.

And finally, a huge thank you to my anonymous reviewers and those who are not logged in, as well! I do read your reviews, and I would reply directly if I could. Just know that I treasure every one! To answer a few people's questions: yes, CS is my end game, but it's a distant goal. Hang in there! There's already a sequel planned!


	8. TheSearch is Over,But theQuest Continues

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of _Once Upon a Time_. This is story is not intended for profit, just as a tribute to the amazing writing, characters, and intricate plots therein.

 **Author's Note RE: Continuity:** In my head-canon, if Snow and David had a second child in Storybrooke, they probably also would have had a second child without a curse. And obviously they would not have named him Neal, so the only other person they could name him after—besides Leopold, and we all know how David felt about that—was David's lost twin, James. Plus, since David is still sort of impersonating James as the rightful heir to King George's throne (which sure makes it easier to usurp the throne from ol' Georgie), it makes sense to keep the name alive for political reasons, as well. So, from here on out, when you see a reference to "James," "Prince James," or "Jamie," I'm talking about Emma's little brother, not the Prince James who was David's identical twin. Okay? Good.

 **Chapter 8: The Search is Over, But the Quest Continues**

* * *

Killian watched almost in shock as the Princess sobbed into her father's shoulder. One of David's hands gently cupped the back of his daughter's head while the other rubbed soothing circles on her back. He could just make out the meaningless inanities David repeated over and over, his lips pressed into his daughter's hair: It's all right, I love you, you're fine now, I love you, it's going to be alright, I love you.

 _Well_ , Killian thought. _That explained a few things_.

Details about the humble shepherd had bothered him from the start: David's military knowledge, for one, his fine boots, his commanding airs, and his dedication to finding the lost princess. Correction, his dedication in finding his daughter, Princess Emma. Killian huffed a breath out and sheathed his sword while he connected all of the pieces in his mind.

He glanced over at his traveling companions to gauge their reactions. Most of the wolves appeared as surprised as he, though Red was smiling and teary. David had said they were old friends. It stood to reason that Red had known all along who David was, who the lost princess was. Another person who had kept vital information from him. And here had decided to like the lady wolf.

Finally, her face buried in her father's shoulder so that Killian could barely make out the words, the swan Princess spoke. "You found me."

David choked on a laugh, his eyes squeezed tight which did nothing to stop his tears. "Did you doubt I would?"

Princess Emma lifted her head. Her face was flushed and tear tracks lined her, but the look she gave David—her father—was one of fond annoyance. "Well, the decade-long wait did give me pause," she admitted. "What took you so long?"

David sighed, shaking his head. "After we sent you away, a lot happened. The castle fell…"

She grabbed his shirtsleeves in tight fists. "If you're alive… Mother? Jamie? I assumed, when I heard that Regina had won, that you were all dead, but if _you're_ here—"

David shook his head, his eyes closed. "Your brother got pinned down with Pinocchio's squad in the inner bailey. Your mother went to help."

"Which means Lancelot was with her," the Princess said. "He wouldn't have let her go off alone."

"Of course not," David said. "One of my only comforts during the siege was that Lancelot and ten of his best knights were with her, watching her back. I was covering the outer baily so that as many people could get out of the castle through the tunnels as possible. I had no knowledge of what happened until later, or I would have gone with her." David swallowed hard. "For a long time, I wished I had."

Princess Emma took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Tell me."

"Regina convinced Maleficent to work with her," David said. "That sorceress had her own reasons for hating us, so she gladly agreed. She transformed and burned everything in the courtyard to ash in minutes. Your mother and James, Lancelot, Pinocchio, and all of their knights never made it out."

A sorceress transformed…into a dragon? Killian recalled David's comment about the only intelligent dragon being a magician in disguise. It was no stretch at all to assume he meant Maleficent.

"Without Snow…" David rasped, "and without your brother, and with you being lost…I did the one thing your mother would have been most disappointed in me for doing. I lost hope." He cleared his throat and then chuckled. "I needed someone to come along and help me find it again. And speaking of which..."

He formally held his daughter out at arm's length, as though they were in a ballroom about to be introduced to a visiting dignitary, and stepped toward the boy watching proceedings with an awed and wondering expression. "Emma," David announced. "Meet Henry."

Killian felt his stomach sink and knot. It would be his luck, it would be _just_ his luck… Hadn't Henry mentioned something about the Evil Queen taking him in? Hadn't he insisted, in fact, that Regina was not his mother? Killian had discounted it at the time, but now…

The boy stepped forward, a hesitant smile on his face. "Hi, Mom."

 _Aye_ , Killian thought. _Saw that one coming._

The Princess looked at the boy, dumbfounded. She reached out a hesitant hand to touch the lad's cheek. Henry was having none of that and threw himself into his mother's arms much the way she had done with her father. The look of surprise and discomfort that quickly melted into tenderness as she—much as David had done—reached down to cup her child's head and rest her chin on his crown. Even through his irritation, Killian felt touched by the gesture.

He narrowed his eyes at the Princess and watched as she gazed in awe and shock at her son. She seemed genuinely surprised to see the boy. Her face was an open book, and the joy and something like terror written there reminded him of his own mother's face the day she died. She had looked at him the same way, as if memorizing every feature to take with her.

Regina had taken the boy and raised him as her own, and the Princess had been separated from her family for a decade, she'd said. Henry could not have been more than ten. When had the separation occurred?

"Wait!" a voice interrupted. "What?"

Killian looked over, glad that he was not the one to call attention to the glaring omission in the shepherd's story. Instead, it was Tanner. Ah, irritating, disgruntled, ever-obtuse Tanner. This one time, Killian was willing to be glad for the werewolf's ignorance since it matched his own.

Red collapsed her crossbow and stowed it once more beneath her red cape, all the while moving forward toward the three royals. "I would think it was obvious, Tanner. We found the lost princess."

As soon as she reached the trio, Red wrapped her arms around the Princess, as well, enveloping both the younger woman and the boy in the folds of her cloak. Killian heard Princess Emma murmur something to "Aunt Red" before finally extracting herself from her family. She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes, pulling on a more regal—or at least less tearful—face.

Killian thought about the situation as he understood it. It made sense, in a political way, for David to have kept his true identity secret, and if he had suspected that Henry was his grandson—for surly he must have guessed—all the more reason to keep quiet about it, to protect the boy. It was not as if there hadn't been clues. Even so, it was galling to have been lied to by royalty again, having Killian risk his life for royal ends, damned be the peons lost along the way. And he could tell that some of the wolves felt the same. They had all been used.

He burned with the knowledge that he had been led through the woods like a fool, not knowing that he aided a fallen king and the bloody heir apparent. From the first, Henry had lied about his origins—doubly so if this Princess was indeed his birth mother—and then David had proceeded to give him lies and half-truths. Always, royalty lied and used those beneath them with no care for the consequences of their actions. Why was he even here? How could he have allowed himself to get into this situation again?

Killian pulled in a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. True, he had been used to further David's agenda to reach his daughter, but that did not mean that Killian could not in turn use _them_ to reach his own goal and finally get revenge upon the Crocodile for killing Milah and taking his hand. This woman was the key. Whatever or whoever had gotten him here, he had found the Princess, the promised Savior, and that was the important thing.

It had been foolish of him not to think that his companions had their own agendas and their own secrets. And, if he were to be completely honest with himself, to protect a child—to protect two children, for the Princess was David's child—he probably would have done the same. If Bae had accepted him, Killian would have taken on Pan and the Lost Boys to protect him, lied to them and misled them all in order to keep Milah's son safe. Hell, he _had_ lied to the Black Knights in order to protect Henry, even when he thought the lad was potentially insane.

It wasn't forgiveness, he reassured himself. It was understanding and pragmatism. A father protected his child. Further explanation, however, and justification for the ruse was required before Killian was completely willing to let go of his idea of calling the shepherd out and demanding satisfaction.

"I believe what the wolf meant was, why were _we_ ," Killian used his hook to indicate the rest of the werewolves and himself, "left out of this delightful secret. And after that question is answered, I have a few more."

"We can explain," David promised.

"But first," the Princess said, "can we sit? It's been a long day flying over you all, and I haven't eaten yet."

The group moved back from the water's edge. David helped his daughter find a dry patch where she could spread out the sodden hem of her dress, and Henry flopped down right next to her and shrugged off his knapsack. David took her other side, and Red sat on his left, each pulling out morsels and passing them to the Princess. The wolves arrayed themselves about, leaving Killian to stand almost directly opposite the lovely swan-maiden.

 _Well,_ Killian considered, glancing at Henry. _Perhaps not strictly a maiden._

"Thank you," she said. "I appreciate it." She cleared her throat and seemed to shake herself, pulling up some memory of proper protocol from her royal past. "I am Princess Emma of Sainte-George and Terrapompuria, by the way. And you all are?"

He waited while Red introduced her pack before Killian swept the lady a bow, pulling out all of his own largely wasted etiquette lessons. "Captain Killian Jones, your Highness. A pleasure to finally meet you."

"He's a pirate," Henry shared.

Princess Emma eyed him, her brow furrowing. "How did a pirate end up searching for me?"

"The boy found himself at the docks, where my ship was moored to take on supplies," he explained. "When he told me of his quest, I decided to join him. I was in the mood for an adventure," he added with a careless shrug.

"Glad I could provide you with some entertainment," she rebutted.

"The pleasure is mine," he returned with, admittedly, more innuendo than was probably appropriate when addressing a princess. David's sharp look communicated that he certainly thought so.

"And now, to answer your question," David said, still glaring at him. "We didn't tell anyone who I was or who Emma is to me, in case we ran into Regina's Black Knights. We were afraid that someone could be captured and tortured for information. We couldn't allow Regina to find out that the former king of Sainte-George and one of the Princess's godparents," he gestured to Red, "were trying to find Emma."

"We all know that Regina's Black Knights carry mirrors with them so that they can report to her," Red pointed out. "We've killed enough of them while we were out hunting. That' s why I always went through their belongings and tossed the mirrors as soon as I found them."

"You always just said that it was a precaution," Mara pointed out. "You never said why."

"And you're _royalty_?" Jeb blurted, astonished.

Tanner, Killian noticed, was looking at his alpha with a new gleam in his eye.

Red shook her head, as did both David and the Princess.

"No," Red said. "I was never royalty. I'm commoner to the core, but Snow White was my best friend. We met when we were much younger, when Snow was first on the run from the Queen. She had spent two nights alone in the forest before she stumbled upon my Granny's farm. I found her—cold, hungry, and very frightened—hiding in the chicken coop one morning. And not long after, I discovered my Wolf…"

Whatever memory her discovery triggered, it was easy to see it was not a good one. Killian watched Red press her eyes tightly shut for a moment before she took a deep breath to go on.

"As most of you know, when your Wolf first comes out, it can be horrible, terrifying, and bloody," Red summarized. "Snow stuck by me, even when most others would have run. We became each other's family."

"And as I've said many times while on this journey, werewolves make excellent allies," David added. "After the first war with Regina and King George, we offered Red and a few select others a place on our council. And when Emma was born, with Red being as good as a sister to Snow, it made sense to make her Emma's godmother."

Red smiled and ducked her head.

Now, Killian was no expert on werewolf mannerisms, but if the ripple of surprise and almost anger that filtered through the pack was any indication, Red bowing her head to anyone was a rarity. And if their leader bowed to this shepherd king, what did that mean for them, Killian wondered. Then he smirked. At least _he_ did not have to worry about unnecessary shows of acquiescence and obedience. A pirate was his own man, always.

"So, you kept the secret of who you were," Link mused, "so that if anyone was captured, you wouldn't be found?"

"So that the last of the royal family wouldn't be found," Red corrected. "Even if he lost his way for a while, David is still a king." When the shepherd grimaced and tilted his hand in a so-so motion, Red rolled her eyes. "Technically, you are, even if the circumstances of your inheritance were a little…odd."

That sounded like another story David owed him, Killian reckoned.

"As long as David and Emma are free," Red continued, "there is still hope that Regina can be defeated and the kingdoms saved."

"If the Evil Queen found out that one of her Most Wanted was alive and well, and searching for the one person prophesized to defeat her, we would have been hunted down aggressively," David finished. "I'm sorry if you feel that we misled you, but our stated mission was true: to find the Princess and defeat the Evil Queen."

"Whoa!" Princess Emma said, waving her hands. "Wait. I never volunteered to defeat anybody."

Killian arched a brow at the Princess's outburst, surprised she jumped in so vehemently.

"Emma?" David questioned.

"I just want this curse lifted off of me," she explained. "I'm not…" She almost appeared to deflate, looking less like a princess and more like a frightened child. "I can't defeat anyone. I just want my family back and to be human full time. Regina can have the kingdom."

"You would let your people down?" Killian asked, his anger returning. "We've been led to believe that _you_ , Princess, are the Savior meant to bring back the happy endings." He casting a quick look to both David and Henry. It sounded a great deal like no one had notified the Princess of her role, which put a certain crimp in his plans.

Princess Emma grimaced, shaking her head. "I'm not…a 'savior.' I never was."

She looked over at her father who, despite his determination in finding her, seemed at a loss how to respond.

"The curse that I was supposed to break?" she continued, looking around at each of them. "Well it was never cast. Which kind of means I don't really have a purpose."

Killian wondered if it was possible for royalty not to know who they were. It was a thought that had never occurred to him. Surely the lucky classes were born entitled and snobbish about their place in the world? Princess Emma looked, for all that, lost. The brow pinched in frustration, the clenched jaw, the gleam of impotence and anger in her eyes, and most telling, a flicker of a wish deep in her soul that all of the hardship and pain was all a terrible dream she would awake from, all bespoke of a path through the darkness long since vanished from sight, leaving her alone. He had seen the expression often enough on his own face to recognize it.

She took a deep breath and glanced at her father out of the corner of her eye. "Look, I've thought about it a lot, even before Regina attacked. Mother told me what the Dark One prophesized: that when the Queen cast her curse, everyone would be swept away to a new land where all of the happy endings would be taken away, and on my twenty-eighth birthday, the battle to defeat her and break the curse would begin. And in case anybody missed it, my destiny was 'to break the Dark Curse.' The Curse was never cast, which makes me pretty useless. It's like having a carving knife when you've been served soup."

"Emma," David murmured, sliding an arm around his daughter's shoulders, "you have a purpose. You have _always_ had a purpose. You're a princess. You're a fighter. You have it in you to be a hero." He kissed the crown of her head.

"And you're _still_ the Savior," Henry insisted, rolling up onto his knees. "You have the power to defeat Regina. You always have. So it's not the Dark Curse you have to break." He shrugged. "That doesn't take away your ability to save everyone."

She shook her head, slowly, sadly. "Henry…"

The Princess was clearly at a loss on how to deal with her son. Her every movement bespoke hesitance and formality, confusion. She clearly had no idea what to do with a child.

Which brought up the next question on Killian's ever-growing list. "How does the lad factor into all of this, anyway? How did he come to be raised by the Evil Queen?"

"Was his father killed in the fighting?" Fay, the littlest wolf, asked.

Perhaps one of the names David had listed earlier was the boy's father—Lancelot, or the other one with the odd name, started with a P. Whoever he was, Princess Emma didn't seem too worried about him. Of course, royal marriages were often arranged. The Princess had asked about the fate of her mother and brother, but had made no reference to a dear husband. Perhaps she truly did not grieve for the lost spouse.

"No, he wasn't. Henry…" she began, then stopped to glance around her circle of watchers. For a moment she ducked her head, but then, jaw firming, she raised her chin and stated clearly, "Henry is illegitimate."

Killian's eyebrows shot up.

Clearly David and Red were already aware of the Princess's transgression, and Henry did not seem surprised, either, which made Killian wonder what Regina had told him about his origins. It seemed crass, to him, to tell a child that he was born on the wrong side of the blanket, but perhaps a woman who earned the moniker of "Evil Queen" was not known for tact. From his admittedly limited experience with the upper classes, illegitimacy was as sinful as deformity. Possibly more so. And that David—Henry's grandfather—seemed so accepting was another surprise. Royal bastards were not generally acknowledged, much less doted on.

And David _must_ have suspected. Perhaps not known, not without a doubt, but strongly suspected. Even Killian could now see a family resemblance between the two. They had the same shape eyes, though Henry's were brown, and they shared the shape of their faces, their jaw lines. They even had many of the same mannerisms.

It was Tanner, the oaf, who voiced the question, "How did a princess end up with an illegitimate child?"

"Heavy handed there, mate," Killian criticized him, wincing on the Princess's behalf. "I don't think that's any of your business."

Admittedly, he was equally curious. He was surprised David had let his daughter out of his sight when she was younger. She was beautiful, and David was not careless. But he would hardly have asked a perfect stranger the details of her love life. Not with her aforementioned illegitimate son right there.

"Actually," Henry piped up, " _I'_ d like to know, too. Regina…said some things. About you, how you were…" he hesitated, looking down, "not a good person. I don't think what she said is true, but..."

His big, guileless eyes looked up at his mother, half in fear and half in hope.

Princess Emma, surprisingly, did not blush or stammer. She scanned the faces around her, and her brow tightened in discomfort at having an audience for this confession. But he could hear the honestly in her words when she spoke.

"I was an idiot. I was seventeen and wanted an adventure. I ran away for a while." She shook her head. "My brother James was always the one who was meant to succeed my parents. Even when we were younger, Jamie just had this spark about him, the same one my mother had. People loved him, listened to him. Not just peasants, but the nobility, the military. And he wasn't vain about it. I was glad to abdicate in favor of him because I always felt that I was the wrong choice to lead the kingdom. But abdicating the throne left me at loose ends. So I borrowed my mother's old clothes—"

" _Stole_ your mother's clothes, you mean," David corrected. "And the fact that her old bandit's jerkin was missing was the only way we knew for certain that you hadn't been kidnapped."

"I left a note," she argued.

"Which could have been forged, or you may have been forced to write by someone who was kidnapping you."

"Well, I wasn't kidnapped," she said. "I ran away. I didn't have a good reason for it. I wasn't mistreated or stifled or ignored. I always knew my parents loved me and would support me. It wasn't anything like that. I was just…bored, and searching for some kind of meaning to my life. Like I said, without my duty to be the savior who broke Regina's curse, I didn't know what I was supposed to do with my life, and I wanted to find out."

She stopped and shook her head. "But it turns out that living on your wits in the Infinite Forest is harder than I thought, even with all of Mother's stories memorized. In a week, I was cold, starving, and ready to give up and go home. That was when I met Neal."

"Was that my father?" Henry asked eagerly.

She hesitated, mouth opening and closing a few times. Her brow furrowed, and Killian wondered what she would tell him. It was clear to him that a lie was trembling on her tongue.

Henry placed his hand on her shoulder. "You can tell me the truth, you know. It was bad, wasn't it?"

She smiled at him. "Depends on what you mean by 'bad.' He said his name was Neal Cassidy, and that he was from the Enchanted Forest originally, but that he had spent many years travelling through different Realms. He had come back home by mistake and was looking for a way back to a Realm he called Phoenix. I remember thinking that he meant a Realm of phoenixes, but he laughed when I asked. We…spent some time together. Stealing, mostly. Neal knew how to misdirect and play on people's sympathies while I pocketed food or bottles of wine or clothing or something we could sell later. We were together for three months.

"By then, I would have followed him anywhere," she murmured.

An echo of his past rose up, and Killian winced. He closed his eyes for a moment and saw his brother standing before the chipped and faded mirror in the cabin, re-buttoning his waistcoat as he prepared to meet the admiralty and denounce their king. Such faith…such loyalty.

 _I will follow you to the ends of the earth, brother._

"He kept talking about us finding a way back to Phoenix," Emma continued. "But he was leery about going to the fairies, and magic beans are extinct. So…I told him that I might have another way."

Killian watched her relive the moment her life fell apart. He wondered if the others understood what they were seeing. The long pause, the deep breaths. It was all so familiar; as well it should be, after seeing it in the mirror every day for centuries. First his brother, then Milah, all because of magic portals to cross Realms. It seemed to him that traveling outside of their Realm demanded the greatest price of all, regardless of how it was done.

Her father put his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him but refused to crumple entirely. She held her head up, swallowed once, and resumed.

"I told Neal that the Dark One was being kept in a cell in one of the abandoned dwarf mines near Castle Saint-George, and I knew how to find my way to it, and that the guards would let me pass when they saw me. I thought that we could offer the Dark One freedom in return for him helping us leave the Enchanted Forest. Neal…"

Emma took a deep breath, shaking her head. "I don't know how to describe it. He became very distant. Not afraid, just… he wouldn't hear of it. We argued. I told him that it was our best chance, and that I would go alone, and he could wait for me. We found an abandoned home to hunker down for the night, but we didn't…" She shrugged. "It was the first time we'd ever had a fight. He was gone when I woke up the next morning. Just gone. I waited for him for two days, but by then someone had spotted us stealing from a jeweler's cart and told the village sheriff where we were camping. The sheriff found me and took me to the local magistrate, who luckily identified me as the princess, and I was escorted home. A few weeks later, I discovered I was pregnant."

Red growled and her eyes flashed. "You can bet I went hunting for the whelp when I found out, intent on drag him to the castle and make him take some responsibility, but there was no trace of him. The scent from their camp was too old, and no one had seen him in the area since he deserted Emma."

Emma shrugged off her father's arm and chuckled, if you could call that dark sound humor. "It was quite the scandal. If Regina hadn't become a threat again, I don't know what would have been done with me." She smiled at Henry. "Or with you."

"You would both have been loved and cherished by your mother and me," David asserted. By his tone and the disapproving frown he leveled at his daughter for doubting him, he appeared sincere.

"Loved and cherished, yes," Emma agreed, "but at a distance. The nobles would have insisted I be banished from court. Can't have the disgraced princess making people uncomfortable or giving their own daughters ideas."

David opened his mouth to protest, but his daughter effectively cut him off by continuing the tale.

"As it happened, I _was_ removed from the castle, but not because of my disgrace. We received word that Black Knights were mustering on the northern border, and suddenly everyone was almost relieved I was pregnant. My brother was only sixteen at the time, and he had no heirs—legitimate or otherwise—so you, Henry, were the last of the royal family of our kingdom, should… should everyone else fall."

This time when David wrapped her in his arms, she didn't fight it. She curled into her father, her eyes shut tight as a few stray tears leaked from their corners. Red reached out and pulled Henry to her side, allowing the boy to place his one head against her shoulder, and rocked him as if he were very young.

"No one ever thought that the precautions would be needed, you see?" Red said. "No one thought the Queen would win. No one imagined that Snow and Prince James would die. You were a contingency, but we always thought that you would both be brought home after you were born, and you would be raised in the castle."

"Here's the part we don't know," David said softly. "What happened after we sent you to the Forest Tower, Emma? How did Henry end up with Regina? How were you cursed? What happened to you after the castle fell?"

Emma pushed herself upright again, and shifted into a more comfortable position. She scrubbed at her eyes, and Killian, remembering his manners, retrieved a handkerchief and offered it to her. She eyed it, and then him, as if judging his sincerity. "Quite the gentleman for a pirate."

"I assure you, I'm always a gentleman," he parried with a wink.

He decided he liked her better when she was frowning at him than when she was crying.

After she had wiped her eyes and dabbed at her nose, the Princess cleared her throat. "Regina found the Tower only hours after I gave birth. She had her knights with her, and the contingent you had assigned to me was cut down quickly. She found me in my room. I could barely walk, but I grabbed a poker from the fireplace. She used magic to turn it into a snake, and I dropped it. Stupid of me."

She shook her head.

"One of her knights grabbed me, and she went straight for the baby." Emma's gaze fell softly on her son. "Regina said she would raise you as her own, and I would never see you again. She told me that my family was dead. There wouldn't be anyone to come save me this time, and she had made sure that Rumpelstiltskin was busy elsewhere, so he couldn't interfere. The spell that prevented her from killing me didn't stop her from casting a non-lethal spell. She transformed me into a swan, but she made sure that I knew that I would be, and I quote, 'as helpless caged animal while the sun rules the sky, and a human only by the light of the moon.'"

Red chuckled, and teased, "So you're the reverse of a werewolf."

Emma smiled back at her godmother. "I thought of that. She said she wanted me to be human at night, when the loneliness creeps in, so that she could watch me suffer. I think she'd planned to cage me and take me with her to the Northern Palace, but I got away. I flew right through the window went as far as I could until the sun set."

"Why didn't you try to search for help?" David asked.

"I did. But every ally I knew of was dead or captured. Regina loved telling me that my family was gone and the castle in ruins. I even flew over it to see if it was true, and the tallest turret was still in flames." She clenched her teeth and blinked rapidly to forestall more tears. "I learned the hard way not to fly too close to humans during the day; it's dangerous for a game bird. People like to shoot at them. And within days Regina had put up wanted posters along the King's Road offering a reward that rivaled the one she put on Mother. The one time I tried to go to one of the peasants for help as a human…it didn't end well."

Killian watched her face as she said it. The anger, the pain, the betrayal, all scrawled themselves across her face. It left the circumstances in question, but he could make a few guesses. A lovely, unattached young woman, alone in the forest, claiming to be the Princess for whom the usurping Queen was searching, and a reward was on offer…well, betrayal was inevitable. Perhaps someone had even tried to take advantage of her before handing her over to the Queen. He could imagine what kind of reticence that would breed in a woman. It would explain why she flew over them all day. She'd had to make sure they were friend, not foe.

"How did you know it was your father who sought you now?" he wondered.

"It took me a few passes to be sure," she confirmed. "A swan's eyesight isn't the best, but he's my father." She smiled at the man in question. "I know what he looks like, how he moves. I knew, if anyone was going to find me, it would be him."

"How?" Tanner butted in.

Emma smiled, a real, true smile, and it was an echo of David's as the shepherd shrugged. "In our family," he said, "we always find each other."

"So, you've been here all this time?" Mara asked.

"No, only for the past two years or so," Emma said. "At first, I stayed in ornamental ponds in the estates of a few of our nobles during the day, but they were all cowed by Regina and more than once, Black Knights came to the ponds to try to capture me. I shudder to think how many natural swans must have been rounded up and had their wings broken or clipped to wait for nightfall to see if they would transform.

"After a few months, I discovered that Rumpelstiltskin had escaped his cell, so I went in search of him to see if he could reverse the enchantment on me." She shook her head. "I couldn't even get close to his castle. Some kind of barrier kept me away.

"Then, a few years ago, I crossed over the border to stay with Princess Ella at the estate her father-in-law banished her to live in. I've known her since I was a child," Princess Emma explained. "She harbored me, but she flat-out refused to try to contact the Dark One. Eventually King Thomas the Elder got word that I was there. I think one of Ella's servants was a spy. He planned to use me as a bargaining chip to see if Regina could return his son to him. But her daughter, Princess Alexandra, got word to her mother in time, and I was able to escape. I thought the mountains of the Enchanted Forest would be a better hiding place, and when I found this pond, I settled in and…hoped."

Killian could tell by her tone, Princess Emma had never actually expected to be found—at least not by an ally—despite her assertion that she knew her father would be the one to find her. He knew by the way she avoided David's proud eye that she almost felt absurd for expecting the rescue, or for simply waiting around for one. He commended her efforts to try to save herself, but he knew enough about magic to know that it couldn't have been easy on her own.

But the Princess was not sorry for herself. She didn't cower or whine. She was terribly lost, believing that she had no purpose, and had been lonely, but she did not allow her father or her godmother to coddle her. In fact, when Henry—blinking and yawning as the day's exertions caught up with him—lay his head down on her lap, she started in surprise before moving away from her father to hold her son, brushing the lad's hair back from his face, and rubbing his back.

An owl hooted somewhere close by, and Killian pulled his attention away from his study of the Swan Princess and glanced toward the sky.

"It's close to midnight now," he observed. "We've all had a long journey. I think those of us who are not nocturnal need our rest."

David nodded. "Do you think we ought to set watches?"

"This place is pretty secluded," Emma said. "You're the first people I've seen come this way."

"We're probably safe for the night, then," David concluded.

"It gets cool on the shore after the sun goes down," the Princess volunteered. "There's a hut I built a little to the east, under the trees."

"Then we'll settle in there for the night," David said.

"Much obliged, Princess," Killian thanked her.

She looked at him with wide eyes so solemn he had to stop himself from stepping closer to her and offering comfort. "I haven't done anything. Don't thank me yet."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thank you again to my Guest reviewers and to andria for taking the time to post a review to this fic. I appreciate every review, and I'm very glad that this story is inspiring loyalty and leaving you eager for more. I hope this chapter gave everyone some answers to questions they may have had. And don't worry, Emma and Killian get to have a long talk coming up next chapter as they get to know one another. It's a long process, and they've got other stuff (like a curse and an evil queen and black knights and a potential war) to deal with. But every relationship has to start somewhere.


	9. For Every Action

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of _Once Upon a Time_. This is story is not intended for profit, just as a tribute to the amazing writing, characters, and intricate plots therein.

 **Additional Disclaimer:** Any dialogue you recognize comes directly from the show. Props to the writers for those little tidbits.

 **Author's Note:** Okay, so in the absence of a streetlight to spark and pop when Emma gets mad, what might indicate that there may be some magic lurking in her somewhere? Well, what if her innate power interacts with other magic in strange and unforeseen ways?

 _ **As always, much thanks to my fabulous beta, Willofthewisp!**_

 **Chapter 9: For Every Action…**

* * *

Killian shifted on his bedding, frustrated that sleep still eluded him. It was late now, and his body was exhausted. But despite the ache in his legs and back as a result of days spent climbing mountains, his mind refused to rest.

The werewolves had decided to bunk under the trees, so the cabin was left to Henry, Killian, and David. The space was cramped, even with only three people inside. There was no way it would have housed the entire rescue party. He looked around the little hut and marveled again at the Princess's resourcefulness.

The little cabin built by the Princess was not spacious or luxurious. The walls were made of thick, woven reeds, showing that she had attempted to make the place as cozy and comfortable as possible in case of bad weather. There were even rabbit and squirrel furs on the floor for bedding, though Killian was surprised the Princess knew how to hunt for game—but given the number of surprises he had had already, perhaps he should stop expecting anything to be _as expected._

Killian closed his eyes and tried to find the rhythm of his breathing, hoping that if he could find serenity he might also find rest. But his mind refused to cooperate. He could barely hold enough concentration to follow one breath into another. Too much had happened today, and he was at a loss to explain some of it.

He was no closer to his revenge now than he had been when he left Neverland. As a hero, Princess Emma was sub-par. The Princess seemed adamant that she was uninterested in taking up the mantle of Savior. She was willing to let the kingdom burn under the Evil Queen's rule so long as she was released from her curse. He was surprised by her selfishness now that he knew her father and son. Surely their heroism and determination could not have skipped her entirely. But if she would not even stand up for her own people, how could she help him kill the Dark One?

If he had not met the woman, he would curse her for a coward, but somehow, knowing all that had happened to her, he was reluctant to label her as such. Princess Emma had suffered a great deal of loss, first abandoned by her lover, then sent into hiding while her family members were killed, and finally she had her son stolen from her. And on top of those hardships, which would have thoroughly battered an average person, she was cursed into a foreign form and hunted throughout the Enchanted Forest for the next decade.

As a pirate, he too had been hunted, but he had always been able to fight back. For roughly half of every day, the Princess was nearly helpless as she languished in swan form. Killian wondered what it had been like for her, and what would he have done in the same situation? He had felt the rage at being on the wrong side of a powerful sorcerer. But even with the loss of his hand, he had never been rendered powerless, losing half of his existence to a form not his own.

And then there was the uncertainty. Liam and Milah had both died in his arms. He knew they were gone. He had felt their bodies grow cold as he held them, and watched as they sank beneath the waves in a proper sailor's burial. He had spent a long time both alone and lonely. But he had never suffered the anguish of not knowing what had become of his loved ones, always to hope that they were still alive, only to have those hopes dashed by year after year of them not coming for him.

He tossed back and forth on his bedding as the thoughts chased themselves through his head. None of it was getting him closer to his revenge. Although he did find himself grudgingly admiring the lovely Princess for her fortitude in the face of adversity, and though he did feel for her plight, Henry had said that she was necessary to bring about the realm's happy endings, and she was refusing to uphold her duty.

He shifted again and tried to quiet his thoughts, thinking instead of the Jolly Roger and running over all of the repairs his ship needed when he returned to her. He went over every board in his mind, every length of rope, every knot, every gun and weapon until his mind quieted into peaceful meditation. He must have drifted off eventually, despite his troubled thoughts, for he jolted awake when he heard footsteps outside the hut softly padding away from the dozing travelers. His first instinct was to grasp the hilt of his sword, but already the footsteps were retreating.

Killian quietly stood up, stepping around his sleeping companions, and glanced outside the hut. None of the werewolves were awake, seemingly unperturbed by whatever had caught his attention. They were camped together some ways off, under the trees, so perhaps they had not heard it. He listened another moment, but the sound did not repeat. He nearly lay back down, but then a soft scuff down by the lake drew him away from the shelter to investigate.

He found Princess Emma sitting on a moss-covered log, watching the moonlight sparkle on the dark water. She was hunched over, her knees close to her chest, and her arms wrapped around her middle, literally holding herself together. She must have heard the crunch of his boots on the loose gravel of the lakeshore, for she looked up as he approached.

"Oh, it's you," she said, straightening up.

"Were you expecting someone else?" he asked.

She shrugged. "My father. Aunt Red. Henry."

"Sorry to disappoint you."

"No, not at all," she said in a rush, then clamped her teeth together with a wince. "That came out wrong. I don't mean that I wouldn't want to see them, if they had come. What I meant was…I expected that one of them would come to find me, not you. Which comes out sounding rude, and I'm not making this any better, am I?"

He chuckled at her and admitted, "Not really."

"I apologize," she said, grimacing at herself. "It's been a while since I've had to be polite and diplomatic."

"Good manners are always appreciated," Killian noted. "But I'm a pirate, love. I'm used to the less polite aspects of discourse."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "And yet you speak quite well for an uncouth pirate?"

"Aye, well, we all have a past."

She nodded, and although there was a spark of curiosity in her eyes, she did not pry.

"I would have thought you would be sleeping," Emma observed.

"I could say the same for you."

"I'm usually awake at night," she explained. "I try to sleep during the day, while I'm in swan form. It makes the time pass more quickly. And even with all of my flying today, I can't seem to make myself sleep now."

"I had a difficult time dropping off, as well. It's been quite an eventful day." He gestured to a place on the log a few feet away from her. "May I?"

She looked at him for a long minute, and he could almost see her thoughts as she tried to gauge his intentions. After a moment's deliberation, she inclined her head and scooted down a bit further while he took a seat. For several moments, he allowed the silence between them to continue. It was surprisingly peaceful. The crickets in the grass behind him chirped a melody to the bass thrumming of the bullfrogs hiding among the reeds along the lakeshore. The occasional plip-plop of a fish surfacing and then retreating beneath the water added a staccato beat. When Emma finally spoke, her voice was as quiet as the night.

"Today was my birthday."

He looked over at her, but she kept her gaze forward.

She cleared her throat and asked, "Do you know what I wished? I wished that I wouldn't have to spend it alone."

"I doubt you could have foreseen such a large and varied party arriving to celebrate, Swan," he teased her, ignoring the sharp glance she shot him.

"This isn't how it was supposed to be!" she erupted, springing to her feet to pace along the water's edge. "My family was supposed to be alive and find me, and there would be some way to break this curse on me—a talisman, a counter-curse, fairy magic, something. And Regina…I don't know. Why can't she just fall out of a window or suffer an aneurism? Why couldn't my parents have just executed her when they first defeated her? It would have saved countless lives, and my mother and brother would still be alive."

Emma finally paused to breathe, her hands on her hips, and her chin bowed into her chest as she struggled to regain control of herself. Killian could hardly fault her for an explosion that had clearly been a long time in coming. How long had those grievances been building up inside her, he wondered? He watched her drag in a few deep breaths and realized he had something better than deep breathing to settle her. He reached into his waistcoat and lifted out his flask from its designated pocket.

"You sound like you need this," he said, offering it up to her.

Emma pulled in another breath, held it, and considered the flask for a full minute before she nodded once decisively, allowing herself to exhale. She reached out and took the flask, popped the stopper off to let it dangle by the cord that kept it attached to the flask, and lifted the spout to her lips. She choked and coughed when the rum hit her throat, but she managed to get a respectable mouthful down without spitting it out. He used his hand to cover his mouth so she did not misconstrue his chuckle for mockery.

"I'm sorry, I'm not usually so talkative," she apologized once she regained some composure, and handed him back his flask. "I just… I haven't spoken to anyone in years, as I said. It seems to all be bubbling up now, and believe me, I am _not_ what you'd normally call a 'bubbly' person. But…" She shook her head as she gazed out over the water with a frown. "There were days I thought I would go crazy."

"And I'd wager there were nights you thought about swimming out into the lake to let yourself drown."

She looked down at him in surprise, and he had to look away, out over the water. It had been years since his nervous habit of scratching his ear had afflicted him, but his fingers were tugging at the appendage before his mind caught up with his body. He cleared his throat and shrugged.

"Funny thing about sailors. We spend most of our lives at sea, but most of us can't swim. You go overboard, and you're lost." He cast her a quick glance and found her watching him with a curious gleam in her eyes, and he finally realized why she seemed almost familiar, as if part of him had known her for years. Gods, it was part of why he could read her so well. She reminded him of Milah when he had first met her, and of _himself_ when he lost first Liam and then his love. "I am passably acquainted with despair, Swan. I recognize it."

Her eyes flicked away, unwilling to accept his sympathy. "That's the second time you've called me 'Swan,'" she pointed out. "It's a little tactless, don't you think?"

"I go by Hook," Killian said, showing the appendage. "If our scars are the first thing people see about us, best to own them with pride rather than have others pity you behind your back."

"I suppose you have a point," she conceded with a frown. And to his relief, she did not seem appalled by the missing hand. Her eyes flicked back to his own, and that curiosity flared to life again, kindling an answering ember in his chest. He knew what she wanted to ask.

"I lost it, along with someone I loved, on one of the worst days of my life," he explained, rather to his own surprise. As soon as the words had left him, he looked away, clenching his jaw, and he had to fight to keep his breathing steady.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

He cleared his throat to chase back the lump that choked him. "It was hardly your fault, Swan," he said, deliberately using her new nickname. "No need to be sorry. It serves as a reminder for me."

To avoid any further conversation regarding his past, at least for the moment, he licked his lips and tilted his head, considering her. "Pardon me for asking, but I'm curious. Why a swan? I mean, of all the things to transform an enemy into, I might have chosen something a bit worse had I been the one wielding the magic."

Emma snorted and shook her head as she sat back on the log beside him. "Personally, I think it's because magic has a sense of humor."

"A sense of humor?"

"When I was younger, I went through what is charitably called an awkward period," she explained. "The other children at court teased me, calling me an ugly little duckling. My father found me crying one day, and he assured me that the most unattractive duckling he could think of was a cygnet, and they grew up into swans." She shrugged. "It became his nickname for me, Emma-swan. It was the name I gave Henry's father when we met. Somehow, I think Regina's curse picked up on it, and _boom_ —I'm a swan."

"So you don't believe the Evil Queen intended to turn you into a bird?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Everything that happened that day is a bit of a blur, but she seemed surprised when she saw me. I'm not sure what she intended, but I doubt it was this." She spread her hands to indicate her current predicament.

Interesting theory, magic with a sense of humor. If magic was a somewhat sentient force, why did it choose some people to wield it and not others? And how would any magician ever know if his spells would work as he intended? And if Emma was wrong, was it something about her, personally, that warped the curse the Evil Queen had cast? But what? What made this woman special? He rubbed the corner of his eye as yet more questions spun around in his head.

For a few moments, they allowed the nighttime symphony to take over as the only sound, forcing his mind to let go of questions about magic he could not answer. As he listened to the lakeside music, with Swan's slow, even breathing beside him, Killian was surprised by how soothing he found it. It was as if he could sit with Emma by the lake for hours, not speaking, and even if he could not sleep, he would find himself rested. He wondered how long they had sat there already. Glancing up at the heavens, he noted the position of the stars. Dawn would come in another hour or so, so there was no point in trying to go back to sleep. Besides, he felt at more at ease now than he had felt with anyone for a long time.

Almost as soon as he thought it, a spike of something ugly shot through his veins, almost like fear. Peace was the last thing he needed now. Not when he was closer to his revenge than he had been in centuries. He might blame it on magic, except that the Princess had not invited him to sit beside her. He had asked. What was wrong with him?

"I told you why I'm awake," she said, interrupting his musings. "Why are you? Surely your journey here was longer by foot than mine was by wing. Aren't you tired?"

"I, too, have much on my mind," he admitted, and he almost wished she had not spoken. But she had—unwittingly—broached the subject, so he felt he had to press her. His revenge demanded it. "I've travelled quite far to be here, and danger has dogged our path the entire way. I…made a promise to someone—and to myself—that I intend to keep. And Henry insists that _you_ are the key to bringing about the happy endings. Frankly, the only reason I agreed to assist the lad in finding you was to petition for my own happy conclusion to a quest I've been on for…quite a while."

The image of the Crocodile looking up at him in shock and fear as he slowly died while Killian watched flashed across his mind's eye. For Milah, and for Baelfire, that monster deserved to die. He could think of nothing that would make him happier than being the instrument of Rumpelstiltskin's downfall. And then…

And then…well, he would consider the future when he knew if he had one.

"Look, I'm sorry, but I'm not fighting any battles," she insisted. "Sure, I was a princess, but not even a very good one. I'm just a person, I'm no savior."

"Is it possible—"

"No, it's not," she cut him off. "I'm sorry, but you—all of you—have to stop thinking that I can somehow fix everything! I'm not trying to dash anyone's hopes, but to give you _false_ hope is far worse. What do you expect me to do, exactly? Wave my hand, and everything just works out? "

"I expect you to _fight_ ," he countered, leaning toward her, his brow furrowed. "As you said, you're a princess. Don't you owe it to your people to fight for them?"

Emma reared back, almost rising from the log. "You have no right to judge me."

"On the contrary, _Princess_. I grew up as one of the little people, and I have seen what a malevolent ruler can do to a kingdom. If this Regina is as terrible as your family insists, I would expect the rightful queen to mount a defense against her."

"It would be a suicide mission," she insisted. "Regina is a powerful sorceress. You really think a pack of werewolves, an aging warrior, a pirate, a cursed swan, and a _child_ could defeat her and her army?"

"Apparently it was managed once before," he pointed out.

"Only with the help of the Blue Fairy," Emma said. "My mother united the villages to fight Regina. First they defeated King George, taking the castle, and then Blue helped my parents trap Regina with a spell that temporarily froze her and took away her magic. But that's not an option now. Blue is gone, and my mother is dead."

"And why could _you_ not do what your mother did?" Killian asked. "I have the word of a fairy that they will come to our aide if or when we attack, so there's one part of the equation. And as for the peasantry, I'm certain they don't enjoy living under the thumb of a dictator. They're _your_ people, Swan. Surely, if you rallied them, they would fight for you as they did for your mother."

She turned away to stare over the water. Her arms reached up to encircle herself, to defend against what, he did not know. Again, he did not understand how someone with such an obviously strong will could not know herself.

No, he realized. It was not knowledge she lacked. It was belief. It was faith. It was trust. She had been left alone for too long, and his intuition told him that even in her childhood something must have happened or been said to her to make her doubt herself, something beyond the teasing of other children.

"You don't trust them," he realized. "And you don't trust yourself. You don't believe your people would accept you as queen. Why ever not?"

Surprise flashed across her face. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Before she could even attempt an answer, a shout went up from the direction of the hut.

They were both on their feet and running in a heartbeat, Killian more quickly than Emma as her skirts slowed her down. Soon, he was able to make out human shapes in the darkness, though the uniforms of the Black Knights blended in with the shadows. Several were engaged in skirmishes with the werewolves, but one darted from the hut with a squirming, fighting boy under his arm. David was nowhere to be seen.

"Henry!" Emma shouted, running after the Knight who had her son.

Killian put on a burst of speed, but he was too slow. The Knight brought a heavy gauntlet down on the boy's head, causing Henry to go motionless. Then he threw the lad over his horse, climbed behind, and broke away through the trees.

Fay, snarling and fingers curled into claws, bolted after the escaping Knight, but one of their assailants had a crossbow. Before she had covered half the distance to reach the boy, Fay screamed and stumbled to the ground with a bolt through her shoulder. Killian was close enough to get to her side quickly, and fended off the Knight when he came to finish the job. The man was only a fair swordsman, and Killian had the advantage of his hook, which he used to blind the Knight. As he screamed, lifting his open hand to cover his ruined face, Killian found an opening between armor and chainmail to dispatch him.

The rest of the Black Knights broke and ran to their horses, leaving the mounts of the dead men to wander in the trees. They were gone before Killian could wrench his sword from his fallen opponent, wiping the blade on the man's tunic to get off the blood. When he looked around, there were three more Knights on the ground, but the wolves had suffered a loss of their own. The old man, Govery, was belly up, glassy eyes staring sightlessly into the sky, and a dark puddle grew underneath him. As for the other werewolves, Tanner was no longer the only one with an injury. Mara and Link were both bleeding. And Jeb was only just beginning to stagger to his feet, shaking his head as if to clear a fog.

He looked behind him, but Swan was gone. His grip on the hilt of his sword tightened as he spun in almost a full circle until a groan from the cabin drew his attention. David, with his arm over his daughter's shoulder, shambled out of the tent clutching his head where a long drip of dark blood hung. Killian sighed in relief at seeing the shepherd alive, and sheathed his sword. He would clean it properly later.

"That bastard hit me over the head with something before I even had a chance to wake up fully," David admitted. "If I'd been quicker…"

"We have to go after them," Emma insisted. "I'll only be human for another hour at most, but we have to try."

"We will," Killian assured her, stepping close enough that he could see her trembling with the urge to run after the Black Knights. Emma looked at him with wide eyes. Even in the faint, silver moonlight, he could see the sheen of tears she had to blink back.

"I have to tend my people first," Red insisted, helping Fay to join the pack. "I'm sorry, I know how important Henry is to you, but my pack just lost someone, and we have wounded."

"How?" David wondered. "Werewolves are pretty hard to hurt."

"Someone prepared them," Red snarled. "They had silver in their weapons. Somehow, someone knows we're helping you."

David released a string of epithets Killian did not realize the man knew.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Red," Emma said. "But they took my son. I _just_ found him! I can't lose him now."

"We'll get him back, Swan," Killian said, reaching out, almost touching her hand before he let his fall back to his side. "In fact, it might be best to wait out the moon. You'll be able to track them better from the air as a swan than we can on the ground right now."

Emma looked frantically at her Aunt's pack. No one was able to track the horse that had taken Henry at the moment. Fay, poor lass, was whimpering in pain as Red broke the silver-tipped crossbow bolt, her hand wrapped protectively in a fold of her cloak. Mara tried to staunch the bleeding cut on her arm, and Link had received a puncture to the leg. Killian had no idea how long it would take them to heal from such wounds if they were made by a metal anathema to them, but their group was severely compromised as a fighting unit until they did.

The Princess hissed in what Killian privately thought was a good imitation of her daylight form.

"You're right, damn it," she admitted. "But as soon as the sun comes up, I'm in the air. For now, what can I do to help?"

Red directed her niece in assisting to patch up Mara and Link while Red remained with Fay to remove the bolt from Fay's shoulder and staunch the bleeding. Meanwhile, Tanner and Jeb, along with David and Killian, dug a hole under the pines for Govery. It was exhausting work, especially on little sleep, and complicated by the huffing and whineys of the horses abandoned by the Black Knights. The animals could smell the blood and knew that they had been abandoned, but they had been trained to stand their ground in times of fear and stress, and their antagonistic posturing was a distraction Killian could have done without. But thankfully Jeb's blow to the head healed quickly, and Tanner had barely been scratched in the last melee, so the werewolves were able to dig faster and deeper than the human men. By the time the sky turned a hazy, pale blue in anticipation of dawn, the grave was ready.

When they rejoined the werewolf pack at the edge of the lake, they found Emma with her hands cupped, Red standing at her side.

"What is it?" David asked. "What did you find?"

Emma held up a small circular object. "It's a mirror. Aunt Red found it on one of the Black Knights."

Killian recalled Red telling him that her pack always checked the Black Knights they encountered always kept a mirror with them. This mirror had a black outer casing, in keeping with the rest of the Evil Queen's entourage, with a crest on it: three white squares, one inside another, quartered by a black cross on a black field below stylized red fire on a white bar. It appeared to have popped open a tad when the Knight met his demise. Emma regarded it as if it were a snake in her hands.

"Should we dispose of it?" Killian asked.

"You might as well, dear," a woman's smooth voice purred from the mirror.

Emma jumped, dropping the mirror to the gravel beach, causing the case to fall all the way open. The image had a blue cast to it, so color was hard to differentiate, but the Evil Queen—for who else could it be?—was beautiful and slightly terrifying. Her skin was pale, and one side of her face was illuminated by some distant source of light, softening the delicate lines on her face. Her dark hair, with a single band of silver rising from above her left eye, was swept up in a complicated chignon. Her eyes were dramatically defined with dark powder and kohl. The only suggestion of color in the foggy image was her deeply rouged mouth which appeared purple, and was pulled back in a vicious smirk.

"After all, I already know where you are now, thanks to my Knights," Regina continued. "And I am well on my way to having my son back, so keeping the mirror around is somewhat pointless. Unless you want to keep me around to torment you a while longer? That would be fun for _me_ , at least."

"Henry is _my_ son!" Emma shouted. "And I am _not_ going to let you steal him from me again."

The Queen laughed, and the sound was dark and full-bodied, like poisoned wine. "And how do you plan to do that? With your little rag-tag band of miscreants? Your mother tried that once."

"Yes," David said. "And we defeated you."

"Oh, is that right, _Charming_? In any case, I didn't stay defeated for long. I still remained the rightful ruler of two kingdoms, regardless of Snow's little take-over, so forgive me if your threats are less than intimidating."

"Snow should have had you executed when we had the chance," David growled down at the mirror.

"Yes," Regina agreed, nodding. "But now I've won, as I always knew I would. Snow White has paid for what she did to me. And I promise you, _Ducky_ ," she hissed at Emma, "I will get _my_ son back by sundown tomorrow. And then you? You will be stuffed and mounted above my throne."

Emma bared her teeth at the Queen's image, and swooped down to pick up the mirror, snapping the case shut, before she turned and hurled it into the lake.

"We have to go," she insisted. "Now."

"I agree," Killian said. A glance at the sky showed the orange, pink, and white of dawn expanding across the heavens. The sun would break through any moment now.

"Right," David said. "Emma, you head to the water. Take to the air as fast as you can. We'll keep an eye out for you."

"The Black Knights headed east," Red added. "That's in the opposite end of the Valley from where we entered."

Emma nodded, jogging backward toward the water. "There's a tunnel in that side of the mountain that leads down to a plateau just north of the Eastern Kingdom. The entrance is hidden, that's why I didn't think to have it guarded. Stupid!"

As she headed off, David turned to his friend. "I'm sorry for your loss," he told Red, laying his hand on her shoulder. "And I'm sorry there's no time for a more formal ceremony. You and your pack, take all the time you need to say your good-byes. Killian? You and I can start out the horses the Black Knights left behind."

Red nodded her agreement. "I'll only stay for Govery's burial, and then I'll head out. I think I can find some friends in the area to help."

"More werewolves?" Killian asked.

"No," she said. "We're not far from the northernmost border of the Eastern Kingdom. I think some old friends from the first war against the Evil Queen may have made their home in the mountains just south of us."

"Just be safe out there," David said.

"I will, I promise. I'll meet up with you as soon as I can. Tanner is my beta. I've already told him to catch up with you three once they've all said their good-byes."

"Agreed," David said. "We'll see you soon."

Together, David and Killian made their way into the trees to collect the horses while the sun rose slowly over the horizon.

* * *

 **A/N:** Once again, thank you to all my anonymous and un-logged-in reviewers! I appreciate every single review, and I'm always glad to hear what you liked, what surprised you, and what your theories are for what is to come.


	10. An Equal Reaction

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of _Once Upon a Time_. This is story is not intended for profit, just as a tribute to the amazing writing, characters, and intricate plots therein.

 **Additional Disclaimer:** Any dialogue you recognize comes directly from the show. Props to the writers for those little tidbits.

 **Author's Note:** So, I actually looked up some fencing terms for this. Not that I know how to fence, but _Hook_ knows; he was clearly well-trained. Have you ever gone back and watched Hook's fights with Rumple or Blackbeard? It's not as choreographed as duel between Inigo Montoya and Westley from _The Princess Bride_ , for which Cary Elwes and Mandy Patinkin practiced for months and months to execute, but they're still pretty good, especially the sword interplay (or, in fencing terms, "conversation") with Blackbeard in season 3's "The Jolly Roger." Also, on a side note, if you haven't read As You Wish, by Mr. Elwes, you should.

Also, yes, I drew a map of the Enchanted Forest to try and keep straight where all the kingdoms are in relation to one another, the coast, and the mountain ranges in my head. It took several tries to get a map that made sense, especially in relation to the accents of the characters, which is pretty arbitrary on the show. Oi!

 ** _Once again, thank you to my amazing beta, Willofthewisp! She pushed me to make sure I included the hand-wrapping scene, and so I made sure to work it in._**

 **Chapter 10: An Equal Reaction**

* * *

Killian and David rode as quickly as their appropriated horses could take them over the rocky mountainside. The horses had not wanted to venture into the darkness of the cave tunnel through which Emma had directed them, following the only path the Black Knights could have taken into the high valley. So the two men had had to dismount, blindfold the horses, and lead them through the tunnel with a dim and smoking torch cobbled together from a short branch David cut from a tree swaddled in a spare shirt Killian had found in one of the pilfered saddlebags to light their way. Killian had never considered himself to be claustrophobic, easily able to sleep in the tiny quarters aboard most ships, but the idea of the mountain suddenly giving way and crushing them to globby smears as they tried to pass through the cavern had him nearly as jittery as the horses. He was never so glad to see the sky as when they reached the other side.

And what a difference a tunnel made. This side of the mountain held much kinder terrain than the one they had spent days climbing. The eastern side of the mountain was a far gentler slope, for one thing. No natural terraces, no narrow rocky canyons. If this was the way the Black Knights had come, no wonder they had made it so quickly to the lake. They would not have had to fight the steep inclines the other side of the mountain boasted. He spared a moment to wonder if Rumpelstiltskin had sent them the direction he had in hopes that they would fail—or at least that he would. Killian would not put it past the Crocodile to sabotage his old enemy, regardless of any benefit he too might get out of the bargain.

Even with the gentle angle of the mountain here, there were still loose stones and wet grass from a recent rain, areas where David directed them to go slowly. Killian was competent on a horse, but not spectacular. He had rarely ridden before his departure to Neverland, and now the hook made holding on or directing the beast more difficult, but he managed. Still, he was glad to allow David to take the lead and find the safest way down the mountain.

Not long after the sun rose, a shadow overhead began passing by a regular intervals, and a loud, unmelodious honk would accompany the swan as she flew by. A few times, she called them onto different paths and trails, each leading farther southeast. They rode through the morning, and the temperature rose steadily as the sun climbed. They maintained as steady a pace as they could, but even Killian could tell that the horses were tiring and needed to eat and rest or they would drop.

David directed them to a shallow stream, and dismounted. "As much as I hate to say it, we have to stop for a while. Here is as good a place as any."

"Agreed," Killian said as he dismounted. Without any prompting, his horse made its way to the water and began to drink. He used the opportunity to stretch, causing his vertebra to pop. His back and his rump were sore from unaccustomed hours in the saddle, and he pulled his flask from his belt, hoping a swig would help alleviate the pressure. He had to be careful to ration it though. The sad little slosh that sounded from inside let him know that he was running depressingly low. "I hope your daughter understands."

"If it were me, I wouldn't," David admitted. "But we'll get nowhere fast if our horses die from exhaustion. We'll have to take at least an hour or so to let them rest. Who knows how long or hard the Black Knights pushed them before they reached us?"

Killian nodded, then asked, "How far ahead do you think they are?"

David shook his head. "I wish I knew. They had an hour head start, but they must have ridden all night to reach us before dawn. They're also weighed down by their armor, and hopefully Henry is making his captivity difficult for his guards. They won't hurt him, or Regina will flay them, so that limits their options. Hopefully he can slow them down some more."

David sighed, every one of his years laying heavily on his face as he eased himself to sit on a patch of thick moss, his hand to his back to ease the strain. After a moment, he reached up to rub at the knot the Black Knight had left on his skull. "But even if we do catch up with them, we're out-numbered until Ruby's pack catches up. And even then, they're armed with silver. We need some kind of plan."

"I suggest an ambush," Killian said, coming to join David at the side of the stream. "We need to find a way to lure some of the Knights away from the main party, and pick them off in the woods."

"Nightfall might be our best option."

"Aye, but only if they stop for the night," Killian pointed out. "They have to know that someone would come after them, so they may press on without stopping. I'd bet good money they're headed for the coast, and there they can catch a ship south to Saint-George. That's where I found Henry, and I doubt he could have made it far on foot, alone."

"Which means that Regina was probably living at the Castle Saint-George when Henry ran away." David pressed his lips together and shut his eyes tightly, grimacing in pain and disgust. "She was living in the home I shared with Snow. She stood in the halls where I taught my children to walk. Gods, the idea of that woman in our bedroom…"

Killian hesitated a moment, but then hesitantly reached up and laid his hand on David's shoulder, giving a little squeeze of understanding. He remembered what it had felt like to have the Dark One on his ship. It repulsed him to imagine the Crocodile rummaging through his cabin, pawing at the brightly colored blankets Milah had bought, the embroidered pillows, the sketches she had drawn that he still kept on his desk. Poor David, he thought. The Queen had already taken his family from him; that she lived in his home was caustic salt in an open wound.

David pulled in a deep breath, ground his teeth, but finally nodded to him. Killian patted the shepherd's shoulder before letting his hand drop. For a moment, they both stayed quiet, watching the horses browse in the undergrowth along the banks. Finally, Killian cleared his throat and told David he would go and see if the Knights had packed any food in their travel bags they could eat, allowing both men a moment to themselves.

He did, in fact, find some rations in the saddlebags. He brought the food and the canteens back, and they shared a quick, quiet meal, even sparing a few fresh apples for the horses. Without Henry to keep them engaged, each slid back into his own thoughts. His own exhaustion finally catching up with him. His mind drifted, and it finally occurred to him to think about what he was doing. He would like to say he had been roped into it, but that was not the case. He had not hesitated, not even for a second, to rush off after Henry when he was taken. He had not asked what his reward would be or why he should bother; he had simply acted. The idea of Emma being separated from her son again had ignited his blood and galvanized him to action. For Emma and for Henry himself, he had offered his services without a second thought—come to that, almost without a first thought.

Now that he had a moment to breathe, he was irritated by his own actions. Killian picked up a stone from the creekside and rolled it between his fingertips as he went over his actions this morning. He may have agreed to help Henry, but only because it furthered his own ends. Even at the first, his decision to hide the lad from the Black Knights had been impulse, and he had intended to turn the boy loose as soon as possible. He had never intended to take responsibility for the lad. Now he was off and running after Henry without a thought.

But then, if he returned Henry to Emma, perhaps she would be more likely to agree to take up her role as Savior. That was it. That was his stake in the undertaking, he assured himself. Save the boy, and the woman would help him with his revenge. Simple.

He nodded once, and tossed the stone into the gurgling water.

Their quiet reverie was interrupted by the insistent honking of a swan flying above them. Both men looked up, and there Emma flew, calling down urgent prompts to get moving. At least, Killian imagined that was what she was saying. David apparently shared his assessment, and within moments they mounted their horses and were away again, this time at an easy canter to merge speed with endurance.

David, aided by Emma's signaling from above, tracked the Black Knights through the afternoon. They had travelled nearly all day, with only a few brief stops to let the horses drink and bolt down huge clumps of grass, when they finally found recent tracks deeply planted in moist ground and a mound of spoor.

"We'll catch up to them in another hour," David said, kneeling to inspect the horse droppings.

"Aye, but there's no sign of the pack, nor whatever friends Red had gone to collect," Killian said. "Two against, what? Half a dozen, at least?"

"Eight, it looks like," David observed, pointing to the crescent hoof prints in the mud.

"Four men each, then," Killian mused. "Not the worst odds I've ever faced, but without an advantage, it will still be a hell of a fight, and we're both tired."

"Your idea of an ambush makes the most sense," David acknowledged. "We just need to make sure they either thin out through the trees or bottleneck somewhere."

"Is there any way we can force them to stop for the night?" Killian asked. "Do you know if there's somewhere we can trap the Knights, or something we can use to hinder their progress?"

David's forehead creased in thought before he suddenly smiled. "When I met Snow White, she was living as a bandit in the forest, on the run from her step-mother. She had felled a tree across the King's Road, which forced the party I travelled with to stop. We can do the something similar _if_ we can get ahead of the Black Knights, and create a diversion."

Killian tried to recall about where they were in relation to the ocean. It would be easier at night, with the stars overhead, but he thought they were not far from the main highway that ran along the coast. "Is there a path that connects with the Eastern Road anywhere near here?"

"I think so," David said. "We're close to what used to be known as the Frontlands a few centuries ago. The duke that ruled the area liked to have his roads planned, even paved when he could, to make it easier to move his troops."

"Then I suggest that we get ahead of the Knights and find somewhere to set a trap."

"Agreed," David said. "We'll flag Emma down once we find a pond or river big enough for her to land."

That decided, they spurred their horses into a gallop. With only a single stop the remainder of the afternoon to explain their plan to Emma and ask her to scout for any bridges, ravines, or thick brambles they could use to their advantage, the men pressed onward, always hoping to see the werewolves melt out of the forest to join them. It never happened, but they were able to outstrip the Knights and gain some distance.

By evening, they found what they were searching for. A narrow, fast-moving river had cut a deep cleft in the mountain. A simple stone bridge crossed it, but it was carpeted in moss almost the entire way across, and dripping with green and grey mold along the sides. Killian doubted it was structurally sound enough for a group of heavily armed and armored Knights atop equally fortified mounts to ride across, but together, he and David added an extra level of difficulty. After tying off the horses to allow them to graze, the two men pushed and chipped away at some of the stones connecting the bridge to the mountainside. Killian just hoped there were no trolls under this bridge. It looked like the type of environment they would like, and they would certainly give the Black Knights something else to worry about, but he did not fancy another meeting with the malicious creatures.

Killian took the horses further into the forest, away from the road, and David did his best to cover their footprints. They could not have any signs that the bridge was tampered with. The shepherd-king actually went so far as to rub rough stones and dirt over chipped edges of the bridge's supports to hide that they had used metal tools on them. It was a rush-job, and it was doubtful it would hold up to deep scrutiny, but it helped to obscure their meddling. With the sun setting, their sabotage was even harder to discern. He hoped it would be enough.

He and David moved into the trees to hunker down and await the Black Knights. The sun had already disappeared when the crack of a twig tightened Killian's nerves. He twisted around, hand on his sword, to face the direction of the sound. A flicker of white in the trees caught his attention, and he let out a breath. A moment later, the figure resolved into Princess Emma, still clothed in her white dress and blue cloak.

"Emma," David greeted her, holding out a hand to help her down next to them. "Did you have any trouble finding a place to change shape?"

"No. There's an abandoned village with a stagnant pond not far from here. The village has been empty for a while. I doubt there's anything edible in the houses, but we can rest there later… if… if we can get Henry back."

She took a deep breath, forehead tightening and mouth pursing. Killian could see dark circles under her eyes, and he realized she must be even more tired than he was. He hoped she had at least stopped to eat, but by the faint tremble in her hands, he doubted it, too focused on getting her boy back. This time when he reached out, Killian allowed his hand to touch her shoulder. Emma startled and twitched under his hand—touch was clearly another thing she had gone a long time without.

"We're going to rescue Henry," he assured her again. Then, attempting to tease her into better humor, he raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Your lack of faith in us is starting to damage my ego, Swan."

"I didn't think it was that fragile," she snarked back.

"I am a delicate flower, I assure you," he insisted, and was rewarded by a quirk of her lips that may have been the beginning of a smile. He smiled back and tossed in a wink for good measure.

David, however, looked less pleased. Quite the stink-eye Killian received. He answered back with a shrug and a smirk. He had never received fatherly intimidation before. Husbandly intimidation, on occasion, but the women he encountered around the docks generally did not have a protective parent hoovering over them. If David could not handle Killian applying some gentle teasing to his daughter, he wondered what the man would do if he actually tried flirting. It was almost enough to make him try.

"Pipe down, the both of you," David scolded. "We're trying for a _surprise_ attack, remember?"

True, time for teasing father and daughter later. For now, he pulled his mind back to the task as Emma quickly sobered, and turned to her father to ask, "Do you have a spare weapon?"

David nodded, adding, "There's an extra shortsword and a dagger on the bay gelding."

She quietly walked over to the horses and pulled the weapons from the saddle of David's mount. After untying her cloak, she wrapped the belt of the short sword around her waist, tightened the buckle, and added the sheath for the dagger opposite the sword. The belt strained the fabric of her dress, pulling it down distractingly to flash just a hint of the creamy mounds beneath. He jerked his eyes away and cleared his throat.

"Can you actually use that thing?" he could not help but ask.

Emma and David gave him identical looks of disbelief, as if it was the stupidest question either of them had ever heard.

Killian shrugged. "No offense meant, lass, but wielding blades doesn't seem like the most lady-like thing for a princess to learn."

"My father is a shepherd turned dragon slayer turned prince," she recited, settling back in next to him. "My mother was a warrior queen who spent years living in the Enchanted Forest as a bandit. Of _course_ they taught me how to use a sword. I can also shoot a bow, plan a battle, and know the basics of pickpocketing."

His brows lifted straight to his hairline. "I'm impressed. That's quite an education you received."

"Snow and I wanted our children to be well-rounded," David dead-panned.

She snorted, and finally they quieted down to await the Black Knights and their cargo. Emma wrapped the blue cloak back around her shoulders and pulled it closed in the front to keep the white of her smock from giving away their position in the darkness. They stayed as still and quiet as they could, but as time passed, Killian could feel their tension mounting. Had the Knights decided to make an early camp, after all? Had Killian made a mistake in suggesting that they would likely push on through the night? Had they taken a different route? Had they lost the entire afternoon attempting to out-flank them when they could have easily have overtaken the Black Knights and fought?

A muffled sound finally caught Killian's attention. It was almost as if someone was singing into a pillow. Softer came the slight jingle of horse tack and armor, accompanied by the faint plod of horseshoes on a dirt road.

Killian sighed through his nose. He had been right, thankfully. Now he settled down to watch as the group of riders came closer. The stifled singing grew louder, and after several minutes, the party was in sight. Henry was sitting in front of one of the Knights, his hands tied in front of him around the pommel of the saddle, and he was gagged, which muffled the sound of the lad's song. The gag did not stop Henry from vocalizing with gusto, however, and Killian thought he recognized the basic melody of _Mysterious Fathoms Below_. It was a sailor's chanty, and Henry could only have learned it from one of the crewmen on the Jolly Roger. He smiled at the thought that Henry was using something he had learned while in Killian's care to defy his captors in a small way.

When the Black Knights reached the bridge, one dismounted and went to inspect the crossing. He returned to his leader, the man who had Henry, and the two had what appeared to be an unpleasant conversation. The commanding officer swore violently, and dismounted, giving an order for the rest of the men to do the same. After much jangling and grunting, the Knights started making camp. The leader and two of the men went to inspect the bridge more closely under the light of a newly lit torch, and Henry was passed off to one of the subordinate men.

They were efficient, Killian could give them that. They made camp quickly, pulling out rations and digging a fire pit. One of the men went a small ways off with another shovel to dig the latrine. Meanwhile, the Knights inspecting the bridge had determined that they would wait until daylight to cross. Good.

One of the Knights ask Henry, "If I take this off, will you be quiet?"

Henry glared, but did not respond.

The Knight untied the gag and pulled it away. Henry took one big breath, but the man quickly had his hand in place over his mouth. "None of that. You've been singing since you woke up this morning. If you don't keep quiet, you'll not get anything to eat, just like you didn't get anything at midday. Your mother said you have to be home in one piece, but she didn't say a thing about being half-starved. Now, are you going to be a good boy, or do I have to gag you again?"

The lad balked, but after a moment, he nodded. The Knight slowly took his hand away, and Henry stayed quiet. "Good boy." He pulled out a water skein and handed it to Henry. "Take a drink. Food should be ready shortly."

"She's not my mother," Henry stated, voice hoarse.

"What was that?" the Knight asked.

"I said, Regina is not my mother. Just for clarification," Henry added. Then, with wrists still tied, he uncorked the skein and took a long drink.

The Knight must have heard this before, for he just shook his head and walked away.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Emma straining forward as if she would like to run in there right now. He shook his head at the same time that David placed his hand on her arm, both holding her back gently. She sucked in a breath and nodded once, swallowing. They had to wait, at least a little while longer.

* * *

Moments crawled by into an hour, and Killian and his companions shifted and strained in the delay, but finally, the majority of the Black Knights bunked down, all still in full armor, which Killian could not imagine was actually comfortable. Wiping his eyes to try to chase away his own weariness after a long trek on foot, followed by a sleepless night and then a day of hard riding, Killian reviewed his options. Of the eight men, only three were on guard duty, placed at opposite ends of the camp to watch the road, the bridge, and Henry. None of them appeared any better rested than he was, luckily. Killian supposed they had also had a long trip and a sleepless night, which suited him fine. It made them more evenly matched, and Killian—in leather and linen—would be quicker than they, entrapped in steel.

David gestured for his attention, and motioned to one of the Knight posted as a guard by the road, in the direction that they undoubtedly thought that the rescue party would be coming from. He then directed Killian toward the guards near the cliff's edge. Finally, he turned to his daughter and mouthed, "Henry." He then pointed into the darkness and whispered, "Village." Emma nodded and made a few hand signals Killian did not recognize but clearly meant something to David who acknowledged the directions. He met Killian's eye, who indicated that he, too, was ready.

They split up, and Killian crept toward the man standing guard near the bridge. Not weighed down with heavy, creaking armor, he was able to step lightly, and made it within arm's reach of the man before he was noticed. The Knight was too busy looking for attack from potential bridge trolls to respond quickly when Killian approached.

The slide of a pebble under Killian's foot alerted the Knight, and he turned, unsheathing his sword. Killian used his hook to catch the hilt of the sword, stopping the man from releasing the blade fully, and then swung his fist at the Knight's throat before he could call a warning to his companions. While the Knight staggered back, his hands automatically going to his neck as he struggled to breathe through a damaged windpipe, Killian used his own sword to run him through.

Behind him, Emma cried out. He turned and found her on her back, using her legs to kick out at the Knight who had been guarding Henry. As the man went backward, Emma climbed to her feet, kicking the long hem of her dress out of her way. But now the other Knights had woken and joined in the fight.

Killian found himself besieged by two men at once. They came at him one at a time, foolishly. He parried a thrust to his chest from his left, then countered with a right flick, parry-riposte, cutting the cheek of the second man, and spun out of the reach. The first man stepped forward, intent on getting under Killian's guard. He blocked, and once again used his hook to deflect the second's swipe before he kicked the man away. He whiped the blade of the first man, loosening his grip, and allowing Killian a heartbeat to regroup.

He glanced at the others before quickly returning his attention to his opponents. Emma had managed to free Henry and pushed him toward the forest while she engaged another Knight. David had two of his own Knights to contend with, though he seemed like he was doing well enough.

Speaking of, the two Knights Killian contended with suddenly realized they might have a better chance if they worked together. They flanked him and resumed their attacks, this time coordinating so that they moved at the same time, not allowing Killian a chance to do more than defend. He was right, the armor did slow them down, but it also did its job and protected them. Killian was forced to be more conservative than they needed to be. They knew the plate and chainmail they wore would protect them even if they left themselves open. It was sloppy fighting, but damned it if wasn't effective, especially against an already weary opponent.

He felt the slide of a blade along his side, under his coat as he twisted his upper body to parry the second man's outside cut which may have decapitated him if it had landed. He had no time to determine if he was seriously hurt. The next instant, he was locked close with the second Knight, and the first prepared for a lunge.

He was going to die.

His adrenaline spiked, and he used it to force the second Knight off him, swiping out with his hook to catch the tip of the incoming blade enough to deflect it slightly. The loud scrape of metal against metal changed to steel against the hardened leather and lacquer of his brace as the sword slid down his arm. It was enough to buy him the time to retreat a few steps.

That was when Killian heard a guttural battle cry from the forest around them accompanied by the howls of werewolves. Never was there a more beautiful sound, even if the men—correction, dwarves—who burst out of the forest along with the familiar faces of Red's pack were anything but lovely. The short, stocky dwarves were armed with pick-axes and heavy, diamond-crushing hammers. One of them, the most grizzled example of dwarfdom that Killian had ever seen, used his inhuman strength to bring his pickax, point down, into the back of one of the Black Knights David faced, causing the Knight to stiffen and choke.

Meanwhile, the Knights that had so concerned Killian a moment ago were now on the defensive. Jeb and Tanner joined him, and now that they knew to be cautious of the silver-dipped weapons, the wolves set about to exact revenge for their fallen pack member. Killian allowed Tanner to take on the stab-happy Knight while he and Jeb made quick work of the other, finally tumbling him over the cliff.

When he turned back to the clearing, Killian saw that the rest of the Black Knights lay dead on the ground. David was rubbing his shoulder, and Emma bent forward, her hands resting on her knees as she caught her breath. Red appeared from the edge of the forest with Henry cuddled into her side, under one arm. As soon as he saw his mother, he ran to her.

"I knew it! I knew you'd find me," he said, burying his face in Emma's sternum. "I sang every song I knew as loud as I could so that we would be easier to track, even after they gagged me."

After a surprised flinch, Emma's arms wrapped around her child, her hand coming up to cup the back of his head, fingers burrowing through his hair. Killian's gut clenched at the sight, glad now that he had been part of the reason Emma had reunited with her boy. He was glad to see the lad unharmed, happily returned to his mother's embrace, and Emma… He actually had to stop himself from going to join them, as David was. He reminded himself that he was not part of their family and had no reason to join in the reunion.

Instead, he checked that wound on his side to see how bad it was. He pulled back his coat and, after sheathing his sword, ran his hand over the slice the Black Knight had made. Luckily, it appeared to have been mostly stopped by his vest. Only a slight tear in his black shirt underneath attested to how close the Knight had gotten to spilling Killian's guts.

He was not the only one to have a close call, although from the sound of it, Tanner was in more danger from his pack leader than he had been from the Black Knights. Red had pulled her second-in-command off to the side, and from the tone of her voice, she gave him quite the dressing down. From the word or two Killian overheard, Red was not best pleased that the pack had not caught up to him and David in good time. He almost felt bad for the werewolf.

"And this is Captain Jones, also known as Hook," he heard David say.

Now the focus of attention, Killian stepped forward and nodded to the newcomers.

"Hook, these are old friends of ours," David continued. "Grumpy, Doc, Happy, Dopey, and Bashful."

"We were friends of Snow Whites from way back," Grumpy explained, his eyes fierce behind heavy brows. "When Red told us she found Princess Emma, we came as fast as we could." He turned to Emma then. "And whenever you're ready to face the Queen, we're with you. I've already lost three brothers because of that witch. I'm not going to lose any more."

Emma opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say a word, David started giving directions to move everyone to the village that Emma had discovered. "We can make camp there for a few days and at least have rooves over our heads for a time. And hopefully there will be some supplies we can salvage from the settlement."

Saved from having to answer Grumpy's assumption, Emma ducked her head and led the way into the forest with Henry at her side. Killian hurried to catch up with them while David and the dwarves followed behind, and Red and her pack remained behind to deal with the bodies of the Black Knights.

He rested his hand on Henry's shoulder and smiled down at him. "Well, lad, you survived your second battle. You did well."

"Thanks!" Henry said, smiling back.

"Wait, second battle?" Emma asked.

"We were attacked by trolls on the way to find you," Henry reported, shrugging. "It was no big deal."

Emma's brows rose as she turned to look at Killian over the boy's head. Killian, amused by the lad's blasé attitude, raised a brow in return at his mother. She pulled in a deep breath and snuggled her son closer to her side. "Well, I'm just glad you had the sense to run into the forest. For a minute there, I was afraid you were going to pick up a sword and try to fight."

"I thought about it," Henry admitted. "But all of the weapons were too heavy for me."

She shut her eyes tightly and stifled a chuckle, and Killian covered his mouth with his fist to hold back his own laughter.

"Well, thank you for abstaining," Emma said.

Killian noticed that she flexed her left hand, holding it close to her stomach. Even in the dark, he could make out a dark line across her palm. He placed his hand on her shoulder, pulling her to a stop. "Give me your hand."

"What?" she asked, frowning at him.

"You're hand—it's cut."

Emma glanced at her cut and dismissed it with a shake of her head. "It's fine."

"No, it's not" he insisted, snagging her wrist with his hook and lifted her hand into the moonlight. "Let me see."

He held her hand between them, and Henry raised on his toes to look down at it, too. The cut extended from the soft crescent of flesh between her thumb and forefinger to the thick pad of muscle on outside of her palm. He had seen wounds like that made when a swordsman tried to deflect or even grasp the blade of an attacker. It was a foolish move, or a desperate one. Luckily, the wound did not appear deep and wouldn't require stitching, but disinfecting it was a priority.

Emma shifted from foot to foot, clearly embarrassed—but whether it was by needing help or his scrutiny, he could not tell. Instead, she bristled at him. "So now you're going to be a gentleman? What happened to being used to the less polite aspects of life?"

He winked at her, hoping to distract Emma from what was about to come. "I'm always a gentleman," he assured her, pulling his flask from his belt. He popped the cork out with his thumb, allowing it to dangle by the strip of leather, and then tipped the last of his rum onto Emma's outstretched hand as Henry looked on in fascination.

"Ah!" she exclaimed, trying to jerk her hand away from what he knew full well was a sting almost worse than receiving the wound itself. "What the hell _is_ that?"

"It's rum—bloody waste of it, too." Considering the cut again, he returned the flask to its place. He pulled out his black scarf, glad that he had washed it as well as he could a few days ago on his journey to find her. It should do for a bandage, at least until they reached the village Emma mentioned. Hopefully they would be able to find something better there.

"If you were trying to disarm your opponent, Swan, there were easier ways" he said, wrapping the scarf around her hand.

"Considering my other option at the time was to let him take my head off, I thought it was better to use my free hand to deflect his sword and kick him in his codpiece."

He chuckled, wishing he had seen that. "Point taken. Ooh, you're a tough lass. You'd make one hell of a pirate."

She rolled her eyes, but there was a half-smile on her face, as he'd hoped. Out of sheer impulse, he tucked one end of the scarf through a loop in the bandage and brought her hand up to his mouth. With only the one hand, there was no other way to do it, but he found he was completely incapable of breaking eye-contact with her as he bit the end of the fabric and tugged, her warm hand with its long, delicate-seeming fingers cupped in his own. Even in the dark he saw her pupils widen as her brows went up. His heartbeat stuttered and sped in his chest, and he might have done something foolish if Henry had not then piped up, wondering if Emma would have a scar.

Emma blinked several times, stepping away and pulling in a deep breath before she turned to her son and said, "I hope not."

The sound of crashing feet in the underbrush behind them pulled Killian's attention back to the fact that they had company close at hand. The dwarves were easily within earshot. It sobered him better than a ducking in ice water.

Emma cleared her throat and nodded to him. "Thank you. I mean it, really. Thank you."

She meant more than bandaging her hand. Her eyes were too solemn and full. He had to look away, concentrate on the ground in front of him as they walked on so that he did not trip and fall in the dark with her too-penetrating gaze on him. Of course he had helped. It had never been a question. He could hardly have done anything else, but it made his conscience itch to have it pointed out to him. He could almost hear a faint voice in his mind that sounded a great deal like Liam shouting from a long distance away. He couldn't make out the words, and Killian didn't want to try. Especially since he knew that he was only using Emma for his own gain. And that flare of attraction? Well, she was beautiful, and it had been weeks since the tavern wench he met at the docks.

"Think nothing of it, Swan."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Don't worry, that Knight who spoke with Henry wasn't Graham. He's back at the castle with Regina. He'll be making an appearance later.

Also, yes, two more of the Seven Dwarves have fallen in this fic. I just can't imagine that Sleepy and Sneezy would survive in a war zone for long. The third that Grumpy referenced was Stealthy, from season one. Although technically Stealthy died at the hands of King George's men, not Regina, I'm sure Grumpy would blame Regina.


	11. Twisted Every Way

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of _Once Upon a Time_. This is story is not intended for profit, just as a tribute to the amazing writing, characters, and intricate plots therein.

 **Additional Disclaimer:** The chapter title comes from Andrew Lloyd Webber's _Phantom of the Opera._ Also, any dialogue you recognize comes directly from _Once Upon a Time,_ and credit should go to the writers of the show.

 **Author's Note:** I am so sorry for the delay! Between the craziness of the holidays and taking on more responsibilities at work, I got WAY behind on writing. I'm back to a place I feel comfortable posting again. Thank you for sticking around!

As always, a huge thanks to my beta, Willofthewisp!

 **Chapter 11: Twisted Every Way**

* * *

With the dwarves standing sentry, Killian, Emma, Henry, and David were able to give in to exhaustion. After finding more-or-less clean bedding in one of the better-constructed cottages, Killian fell into a slumber that lasted most of the next day. He awoke in late afternoon from a sleep so deep he almost felt as if he were drugged with a crick in his neck, his body aching from the long, hard ride, then the tense stillness followed by the heated exertion of battle.

He winced, rolling his neck, and realized he was desperately in need of a wash. A stone well stood in the little square of the abandoned village, and by luck, it still had water that appeared clear and smelled fresh and clean. He figured it was good enough for a quick scrub, and took a bucket into the little cottage he had claimed.

After a quick wash to remove the dirt, dust, and sweat from the weeks of traveling and the battles he had fought, Killian re-dressed in his other spare shirt, knowing he would need to actually launder both soon, and set out to explore the village and find his fellow travelers. He found a long building near the center of town that boasted two chimneys, one at either end of the structure, which may have been the meeting hall for the original inhabitants. It seemed mostly intact, with only a few of the boards rotted out, although a small garden seemed to be growing in the cracks of the slate roof. Smoke curled out of one of the chimneys, so Killian stepped inside and stood a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim interior.

The area around the fireplace nearest the door had been transformed into a communal kitchen. A stag roasted over the dancing flames, and a pot of stew bubbled away on a hook to one side. There were stacks of unleavened bread along with fruit, vegetables, and cheese already on one of the tables. Killian's nose and stomach let him know just how hungry he was, one delighted with the scents and one cramping in complaint that he had not filled it properly in days. His first stop was to the stew pot, then over to the table for bread and a piece of fruit. No citrus, unfortunately. As a sailor, he was only too aware of the danger of scurvy. But there were apples and pears and ripe berries, and he was content with the bursts of sweetness they provided.

David waved him down to the end of the table where he and the dwarves sat eating over a rough map of the Enchanted Forest. It appeared David, too, had taken the opportunity afforded by the village to bathe and change clothes. He had even trimmed his beard close to his face, making him look younger and more like a warrior and a king than the thick, bristly bush his face had hidden behind as a simple shepherd.

Killian took a seat and tucked into his food. After yesterday's meals on the move, it felt almost decadent to sit down and eat, regardless of the mediocrity of the stew. The utensils were clean. The table was lit by actual candles. And then the dwarf Grumpy handed him a skein of wine, and another dwarf Killian could not recall the name of passed him a cup. All in all, a pleasant change to the last few weeks of constant travel.

"Cheers, mates. Much appreciated," he thanked them as he filled the cup. "Where did you find wine?"

"We brought it with us," the second dwarf said. "The stuff that was left here in the village had turned to vinegar."

"We did, however, manage to find some old clothing and shoes that the mice hadn't gotten to while we explored the village earlier," David said. "It's been washed and is hanging up to dry now. You can look through it to see if there's anything you can make use of. However, the food was all provided fresh by the dwarves and Red's pack. We'll need to find someone close by to trade with, though. We're running low on a lot of other supplies—oil to clean the swords, ointments for wounds, fresh clothing and bandages, and I wouldn't say no to more current maps of the area. These are a few decades old."

"We can do you one better," Grumpy said. "We've been mining in these mountains for five years now. We know all the little loops and pinches in this part of the Enchanted Forest, and we have allies we can ask for supplies and reinforcements. I know they'll agree to help us when we tell them of our plans."

"Good," David said, smiling. "Bring them as fast as you can. If we're going to defeat Regina and take back the kingdom, we'll need all the help we can get. Luckily, I noticed a forge in town earlier. It even has some scrap iron laying around."

"Now if only someone knew how to make weapons, we'd be all set," Grumpy said.

Killian decided not to mention his questionable smithing skills. With two hands, he could just about pass his work off as mediocre journeyman-level skill. With the one, he was lucky if he could produce a straight nail. Once he swallowed a mouthful of stew, and asked, "We'll be all set for _what_ , exactly?"

The men looked at him as if he was missing something obvious.

"All set for preparing to battle Regina," David stated. "If we had a blacksmith, we would be able to forge more weapons for leading an assault against her forces."

"And _where_ are her forces, exactly?" Killian asked. "She's the ruler of how many kingdoms now? Three? How many troops does she have? Are they volunteers or mercenaries? How thin or how concentrated are her forces throughout the realms? How quickly can she mobilize them?"

"This isn't my first campaign, pirate," David snapped at him. "These are all issues that we will have to take into consideration, along with dozens of others. I'm aware that we have gaps in our information that we need to fill before we attack, but we _will_ fight."

"Will you? Because most importantly, what are you planning to do once you defeat her? Your daughter, last I checked, seemed fairly adamant that she would not accept the mantle of queen."

"Actually," the woman in question said, causing the men to look up in surprise. It must have been later in the evening than Killian had thought if the Princess was once again in human form. "What I said was, I don't think that trying to fight Regina is a good idea, period. I'm not a soldier. I'm not a _Savior_. And I'm not some figurehead for you to hold up to motivate your troops."

"Emma…" David stood up from the table and walked to stand in front of his daughter, cupping her shoulders. "Regina will just try again to get Henry back when she realizes her Knights have failed. As his mother, you have to keep him safe. And what about all the other people in our kingdom? You owe it to them—"

"I _owe_ them?" she demanded, pulling away from him. "So you're saying that because of some prophesy or some destiny that _I_ never chose, I'm supposed to be responsible for everyone's happiness? That is _crap_! I didn't ask for that, I don't _want_ it!"

Emma pulled in a deep breath, hanging her head. Killian rose to his feet, almost stepping forward when he saw tears wetting her lashes that she refused to let fall. She swallowed twice before she was able to continue.

"Yes, I fought to get Henry back and to try to be his mother because that is _all_ I can handle right now. And I'm not even doing a good job at _that_! I've only been his mother for five minutes, and already he's been kidnapped—twice—and attacked by trolls and Black Knights and who knows what else! Now you are telling me that I have to save _everyone_? That is _beyond_ ridiculous. I don't want _any_ of it!"

With that parting shot, she turned around and fled. The group was tense and uncomfortable as the men all tried to avoid one another's gazes. Killian attempted another of his meal, but the food turned to a hard lump in his mouth under the weight of the dismal atmosphere. Barely managing to swallow, he followed it up with his entire cup of wine and wished he had his flask to hand, as well.

"Not exactly her mother's daughter, is she?" Grumpy observed.

David shot the dwarf a furious look. "Shut it, Grumpy," David ordered. When the dwarf shrugged, holding up his hands in surrender, David sighed and rolled his shoulders. "Don't worry, I'll go after her."

"Do you think that's wise, mate?" Killian asked. "Might be better to let her cool off for a spell."

David hesitated, his jaw clenched, before he nodded. "Maybe you're right," he said, rejoining them at the table. The shepherd wrapped his hands around the cup of wine he pulled close, staring down into it the liquid as if it held answers for him.

Killian forced himself to eat the rest of his food. Given their luck so far, he wanted a full stomach. Who knew how long it would be until he had another meal as hearty as the one before him? He poured himself more wine to go along with the fruit, and when he was finished, he piled his dishes in a tub of water to be washed later.

Not willing to sit at the silent table with its morose occupants, he wandered outside and took a deep breath of night air. The sky was completely dark, and the waning gibbous moon stood bright above the tops of the evergreen points. Henry and Fay were a ways down the street, peering into the window of one of the abandoned houses. They both seemed happy enough, though the girl still wore a sling to support the shoulder that had been pierced by a silver-tipped crossbow bolt.

There was no sign, however, of Emma. He looked around and tried to determine where the Princess might have stormed off to after leaving them. He was not a tracker like Red or David, but he doubted he would need to be one in order to find her. Surely she could not be so foolish as to wander away from the village with no protection. There were Black Knights in the forest, not to mention wild animals and the immortal beasts like chimera and manticore who did not fear humans as a bear or wolverine might.

So that left one of the abandoned structures…like the old mill on the outskirt of town. There was a pond there, likely the one she had landed in last night, and it made a certain sense that in times of distress a swan would seek out water. He debated with himself for a few minutes. After all, he had just told David to give his daughter some time to cool off after her outburst. But, he reasoned, he and Emma had an unexpected rapport, and sometimes one could better take advice from an acquaintance than from a family member. Perhaps it would be better for him to talk to her first, before David. He may be able to convince her to fight for herself (and by extension, fulfill her destiny and aid him in his revenge) where her father was more interested in the good of the realm as a whole.

A few moments later, Killian found Emma sitting on a low stone wall, half crumbling and covered in grey moss next to the stagnant water with her elbows rested atop her knees as her fingers fiddled with the bandage on her left hand.

"That was quite a scene you made back there, Swan."

She jumped at his voice, and he could not help his pleased smirk in response. Her irritated glare was becoming one of his favorite expressions.

"You again?"

"Afraid so." He stepped up beside her and leaned his hip against the wall. "Tell me, since you don't care for your father's plan, you must have one of your own to keep Henry from his adoptive mother's clutches?"

"Firstly, that woman is _not_ his mother," she began, but he waved her assertion away. It made no difference at all, frankly. The woman had stood in a mother's place for the boy for ten years, regardless of the circumstances. "And as for my plan…I don't see why we can't just leave the Enchanted Forest altogether. Go to a new Realm and start over where no one knows us. Who knows, maybe my curse will stay here in the Enchanted Forest, as well."

"And if it doesn't?" he prompted.

"If it doesn't…" she floundered, trailing off. Then she set her lips in a tight line. "Then I can live with that, as long as I have Henry, and we're safe."

Stubborn woman. He wanted to shake her. He had never met anyone so obstinate and short-sighted. Did she really believe that simply leaving would solve all of her problems?

Before he could say another word, Emma fired a return volley. "Who's Milah?"

He rocked back on his heels, the breath knocked out of him at her name. Milah. His Milah. It felt like ice water had been dumped down his neck, realizing that he had not thought of her all day. His breath hitched, and his jaw tightened. Even now, up to the second that he had heard her name, he had been more concerned with Rumpelstiltskin than with Milah. "How—?"

"I saw the tattoo on your wrist yesterday," she explained. "Is she the reason you're so hell-bent on killing Rump—"

"Don't!" he cut her off with a sharp finger. His jaws ached from how tightly he clenched his teeth. His heart pounded as he curled his finger back into a fist to keep his composure. That she had guessed so easily set the hair on his neck rising.

Emma jutted her chin up. "Who was she?"

"Someone from long ago," he rasped. Images of Milah smiling, laughing, fighting, drawing, sleeping, all spilled across his mind. How dare Swan just throw her name out like it was nothing?

Because she was making a point, of course. How dare he, in turn, bring up such painful issues for her? But there was a difference. He was fighting for his love. Emma was running. She needed someone to tell her she was being an idiot.

He shook his head, forcing himself back to the conversation. "She's also not the issue right now. The issue is that you have no plan beyond running. As content as you think you'll be abandoning the Realm and running off with your boy, it's not enough."

"It can be," she insisted. "It can be enough for me, for Henry. We can have a fresh start and a chance of being happy without evil queens and Black Knights."

"Except for all the things you'll be leaving behind, part of you's not the real you, _Princess_ ," he paused, letting her title sink in. "And like it or not, a big part of you and Henry belongs in this Realm with your family."

After all this time, if he had the chance to reunite with Liam, suddenly back from the dead, he would jump at it. He knew from watching Emma with her father that their relationship was a close one—or it had been, before the Queen had destroyed their lives—as was Emma's connection with her godmother and honorary uncles. The newly formed bonds between Henry and everyone around him were growing to be just as strong. To deprive them both of those relationships would tear open the wound on her heart that years of solitude and the belief that her family was dead had torn.

"Yeah, the part of us that's always in danger," she returned. "We're leaving. It's for the best."

"What's best for Henry, or for you?" he challenged her.

"Excuse me?" she demanded, frowning at him.

"You talk about danger all you like, but it isn't that." He paced toward her, wanting to _make_ her see. "So tell me, what is it? Why are you so scared of staying, of fighting for your kingdom?"

It baffled him that this woman who was so strong, who others rallied around so readily, did not see herself as a leader. She had admitted that she had abdicated her claim in favor of her younger brother…was it simply that she felt useless if she was not able to break a curse? Was that it? She was the farthest thing from useless or powerless that he had ever seen. There was such strength in her and the ability to be a leader. He saw it in Emma just as his brother and commanders at the naval academy had seen it in him. But where Killian had been encouraged and supported, had Emma been stifled?

With the remnant of her family that he had seen, he could not imagine it was that, and yet…

Emma stepped away from him, turning her whole body as she put distance between them. She shook her head. "I don't have to have this discussion with you."

"You have to have it with someone. And I hate to break this to you, but your father does have a point," he reminded her. "The quickest way to break your curse is to kill the person that placed it."

"Or True Love's Kiss," she added.

"Oh, and you have someone you truly love conveniently waiting to kiss you?"

"It doesn't have to be romantic love," she argued, rather pedantically he felt. "When I was first transformed, I looked for people who were more versed in magic than I am. There was a man, a hermit in the forest who said that true love can mean a lot of things. Yes, it can be romantic, but true love can also be friendship, loyalty, or family. It just requires that what you feel is powerful and true and real, and it has to be reciprocated by someone who is not cursed."

"Ah, now there's the rub, isn't it?" he asked. "Because I saw your father kiss your forehead when we first arrived at that sanctuary of yours, but the curse remains. Something has tainted your filial love. Anger?" he guessed. "Abandonment? You were alone for a decade; how could he have stopped looking for you, his own daughter? You are his only living child, and he stopped searching for you within a few years."

"Shut up."

"What about your godmother?" he asked. "The same, apparently. She also gave you up as lost and went on to find herself a new little family. And your son? You don't really even know him, and you didn't raise him, so you can't truly love _him_ yet, either, as much as you want to."

"Shut! Up!" she shouted at him, springing to her feet.

This was stupid. Provoking her, making her angry, it was the wrong approach to take with her, and he knew that. But he had to make her see that running was useless. Pointless. And he knew of no other way than to confront her to make understand. Running would accomplish none of what she wanted and left too many people, himself most prominently, without their hope of a happy ending. Without the help of the Savior, how was he to get close enough to the Crocodile to kill him? Milah would never be avenged. He would lose the one purpose he had in life, and then what? If this obstinate Princess would not live up to her destiny as the Savior, how would he ever get what he had wanted for so bloody long?

"Your choices are limited, love," he insisted. "You _have_ to defeat the Evil Queen, and then go on to do…whatever it is that a Savior does. You don't have any other _viable_ choice."

"I already told you! I told _everyone_! I'm not a hero. And Regina is a powerful sorceress. Exactly _how_ and I supposed to defeat her?" she demanded, throwing up her hands. "Some clarification would have been nice when _whoever_ it was decided to make _me_ the so-called Savior. If you've got any ideas, I'd love to hear them, because so far, the best one I've come up with is 'get the hell out of the Enchanted Forest.'"

He stood up, leaning into her face. "This may come as a surprise to you, Swan, but I didn't join this quest for my health. I came because I want my happy ending: the Dark One dead, preferably by my hand."

"Well, tough luck because I can't promise you that," she argued back. "I can't promise _anything_."

"Then why the bloody hell should I stay here, Swan? I've delivered Henry to his mother as I promised him I would. What point is there in sticking around to wait for you to hare off to another realm, leaving behind everyone who has come to count on you?"

"I didn't ask for you to count on me! I never _once_ said that I would fight for you or anyone other than my son! And no one is forcing you to stay!"

He paced away once and immediately turned back around, gesturing wide with his good hand. "You won't even fight for _yourself_! I'm not even sure you truly know why."

"I am doing the best I can—"

"You're doing _nothing_! You have a kingdom depending on you, and all you want is what is best for _you_."

"Look who's talking!" she shouted back. "You _just_ said the only reason you're here is to get revenge on the Dark One. You don't care about the curse. You don't actually _care_ that Regina has destroyed countless lives. All you care about is killing someone! I'm at least trying to have a _life_."

His muscles stiffened and he leaned away from her. It was not far enough, so he stepped away—one step, two. He clenched his jaw and felt his molars grinding together. Stubborn, pigheaded, myopic…

"You're right," he said, keeping his voice steady. "I _don't_ care. There are plenty of heartless rulers out there, in this Realm and in many others. One more wreaking havoc means nothing to me. Do what you want—or don't do anything for all I care."

He turned and walked away, his fury boiling and churning in him stronger than he had felt since Neverland. He had lost sight of his objective, and he had done nothing but suffer for it. Rumpelstiltskin knew he had returned to the Enchanted Forest. He was without the Dreamshade poison. He was no closer to his revenge.

And worse, far worse, was that for a short time during this journey, while spending time first with Henry, then David, and finally that first night at the mountain lake during his conversation with Emma, he had forgotten his mission. He had forgotten Milah. His heart had not felt broken. He had, for a time, stopped feeling as if there were no future for himself. He had had a mission and a purpose beyond revenge, and in losing sight of that, he had lost _her_.

And he would be damned to the darkest hell if he would allow that happen.

He stormed across the village to the cottage he bunked in and gathered up his things in his satchel. He wrapped his sword belt around his waist, fastened it, and resettled his jacked over the weapon. After he slung the strap over his head, he made his way to the stable yard and found the gelding he had ridden the day before. He threw on the blanket, tossed the bridle over the horse's head, and lifted the saddle on its back. He did not bother with food. He would find something on the way. He would steal if he had to.

"Where are you going?"

He froze at Henry's query. "I thought you were exploring with Fay."

"I was," Henry said. "But then I saw you rush across practically the whole village. I called out to you, but I guess you didn't hear me. Are you alright?"

He turned slightly, allowing the boy to see only the side of his face as he attempted a smile. "Perfectly. Why don't you run along and find something to do?"

"Mmm-no," Henry said, balancing from foot to foot. "Something's wrong. What happened?"

"It's none of your concern, lad," he said, taking the reins in his hand and starting out of the stable. "I've just decided that my work here is done. I'm going back to my ship. I never intended to stay away so long."

"But, but—the quest! Defeating the Evil Queen!" Henry exclaimed, jogging to keep up.

"Defeating the Evil Queen was never _my_ quest, lad," he pointed out. "It was always yours, and I wish you luck with it. But perhaps you should see if your mother is on the same page with you. I think you may be surprised by her answer."

"But-but…" the boy stuttered. "I don't understand! What's going on? Why wouldn't she want to complete her quest? It's her destiny! And you have to stay and help! There's a reason you're here! The fairy Nova said so! I'm sure it's not an accident that I found you, and you agreed to help me, I'm _sure_ of it!"

Killian dropped the reins, sparing a thought to curse, for the ten millionth time, the fact that he only had one hand, and grabbed the boy by the arm. "I don't care what you _think_ you're sure of. You're wrong about this. Now go find your mother or your grandfather or someone else to bother."

He pushed Henry away, barely able to restrain himself from adding real force behind the shove, and mounted his horse. He had only a second to register David and Red leave the meeting hall, looking on in confusion as he rode away. David called out in confusion, but he didn't bother to look back. To hell with them. To hell with all of them. He'd kept his word, returned Henry to his mother, and helped the shepherd find his daughter. He was finished with this ridiculous quest, and he cursed himself a thousand times for agreeing to it in the first place.

He left the town at a gallop and only slowed to a walk once he was well away. It was still night, and the horse did not want to travel any farther than it had to with a strange rider and no visibility. He urged the beast on as best he could, but since he was operating on only a rudimentary knowledge of the forest, following the stars to lead him east, to the coast, Killian was forced to allow the horse to set its own pace for hours. He avoided the bridge that he and David had sabotaged the day before since he was still not sure how much damage was cosmetic and how much of the bridge was legitimately decayed. Instead, he went further south, along the ridgeline.

It was nearly dawn when he spotted another village slightly below him on the mountainside. This time, the village was inhabited. There were laundry lines strung between homes and near-by trees, animals in pens in the yards, and the occasional dog standing guard over livestock. There were no lights in any of the windows yet. After a quick glance to the sky, Killian noted that the moon had set. Emma would have returned to her swan form by now. In the east, beyond the canopy of the forest, the sky was beginning to lighten. He could wait an hour more before he approached the settlement to avoid causing unnecessary concern amongst the inhabitants.

He dismounted from the horse, glad to give his backside a rest. The horrible creature had been bouncing him around the last few miles, intent on letting his new rider know that it did not appreciate the late hours or the unpracticed seat. Killian fished out his flask and took a deep swallow, lamenting that the liquid was water instead of the rum he had wasted on Emma's hand.

After leading the horse to a clearing to graze and rest, Killian found a boulder and sat to watch the sun come up. He felt his eyelids begin to drop. Even having slept the day away, the night had been wearying. He fought to stay awake, but was losing the battle when a voice in the darkness caused his heart to slam into double-time.

"Lovely view, isn't it?"

Killian was on his feet, sword in his hand, before he even took a breath and found himself facing the woman from the mirror. The Evil Queen, Regina. She was even more beautiful in person. The years that had marred David lay gently upon the Queen. Her face still only had delicate lines around the eyes, and the silver streak in her hair added a dramatic flair to the dark pompadour crowing her head. But even in the faint light of pre-dawn, he could see the warning flash of color on her lips—blood red. She wore a heavy coat of glossy black feathers with a high collar over a black brocade gown. At the very least, he could appreciate her almost piratical use of color to intimidate.

"Your Majesty," he greeted her. "To what do I owe this honor?" Then he squinted, cocking his head. "And how did you find me?"

"It was simple enough," she said, smiling. "Any reflective surface can act as a mirror, and with a mirror, I can find anyone."

Killian looked over at the bridle on his horse. Or more specifically, he looked at the shining metal links amongst the leather. Hell, even his own hook reflected a silver beam of moonlight.

He ground his teeth, but refused to let her cow him. He smirked, choosing to go on the offensive. "I would have assumed, after we foiled your attempt yesterday, you would be busy attempting to regain Henry and kill his mother."

" _I_ am Henry's mother," she corrected him, her voice low and smooth, like poisoned rum. He wondered if she realized how like Emma she sounded. But her movements and gestures, the predatory glide of her walk as she stalked around him, always just out of reach of his sword, was anything but similar to the unstudied movements of the Princess. "I have raised him since he was an infant, soothed every fever, endured _every_ tantrum. That spoiled little princess may have given birth to him, but he is _my_ son."

She ceased pacing and forced herself to calm, briefly closing her eyes, before she shook herself free of her irritation. "But to return to your question, the reason I'm not hunting Snow White's daughter is because I am more interested in _you_ at the moment. You see, I have an offer that you would be wise to accept, as I believe it will benefit us both."

"And what would that be, Your Majesty?"

She pulled her lips back from her teeth in a predatory smile. "I have come to understand that you are looking for a way to kill Rumpelstiltskin."

He tensed at the name, remembering what Henry said about the Crocodile's ability to hear his name spoken throughout the Enchanted Forest. The last thing he needed was for the demon to find out he had left the protection of David and Henry, and made himself an easy mark, alone in the forest. His grip on his sword hilt tightened, and he cast about, looking for any tell-tale purple smoke in the forest.

"Oh, don't worry, dear," the Queen said, waving his concern away. "He can't hear me when I say his name. I made sure of that a long time ago. And while you're with me, that protection extends to you. I assure you, we're completely safe from the Dark One while we speak." She smirked and tilted her head coquettishly. "So, I take it my information was correct?"

"Aye," Killian confirmed. "What exactly is your offer?"

"I will help you with your vendetta against Rumple," she offered, sidling in close to place her delicate fingers on the flat of his blade, pushing is aside so that she could move in so close he could smell her subtle perfume, like apples and amber and mink. "And in return, you will help me get my son back."

"Return Henry to _you_?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "And why do you think I would do that? I just spent several weeks attempting to reunite him with the woman who gave birth to him, not to mention a battle with your Knights to keep him with Princess Emma. They both seem very happy with the arrangement. And as for my revenge against the Dark One…" He leaned in close to her face. "I don't need your help."

"Oh, but you do," she countered. "I assume you have some weapon at your disposal that will allow you to kill him. I admit, I have never come across such a thing while searching this Realm, and I've searched for years. But how do you intend to get close enough to him to _use_ that weapon?"

Killian rolled his tongue over his teeth and swallowed down the hot bile that threatened to rise. That, of course, had been his problem since arriving the Enchanted Forest. That had been what he had counted on the supposed Savior to provide him with—an opportunity.

"You see?" Queen Regina said, lifting her shoulders in a neat shrug. "You need my help."

Fine, he could admit that. Killian nodded, finally sheathing his sword since it appeared he would not be using it. He did have one question, however. "Why would you offer to help me kill Rumpelstiltskin?"

The Queen pursed her lips and stepped away from him to take a seat on the boulder he had vacated. "Many years ago, Rumpelstiltskin was captured and imprisoned in a cell by my stepdaughter and her so-perfect friends. But even there, he managed to do what he does best: corrupt, ruin, sabotage…kill. As I believe you well know?"

Milah…

"Aye, I do," he admitted. "Who did he take from you?"

Regina pulled in a breath and held it for a moment before she answered, "My father. Rumple managed to manipulate one of his guards, and when I chose a different path than the one the Imp wanted me to walk…he sent the guard to run my father through the heart. I think he saw it as fitting punishment for my refusal to _use_ that heart to cast Rumpelstiltskin's Dark Curse."

He remembered David telling him about the Dark Curse that had hung over the Enchanted Forest, the one that Emma had been meant to break. It was meant to have destroyed everything in its path, and Regina was the one who was poised to cast it. But…to use her own father's heart to cast a terrible curse meant to destroy the land? Only a sick and malicious mind could come up with a plot so foul. And when Regina had refused, turned away from murdering her own family, Rumpelstiltskin had taken him away from her anyway. Gods, if everything he knew of the Crocodile had not made him believe he was a monster, then that alone would have assured it.

But he still hesitated. The Queen had been the Crocodile's student, if he remembered correctly. Surely she would have learned from her teacher the art of making deals that benefitted her and swindled her ally.

"So you will help me—and yourself—dispatch the Dark One in return for Henry?" Killian repeated to ensure that he understood the bargain. He wanted there to be no loophole that may later become a noose. "And what of Emma? Do you think the lad will forgive you for murdering his mo—pardon." He offered the Queen a slight bow of deference. "The woman who bore him? He ran from you once. Kill Emma, and he will never stop."

Regina sneered and rose from her seat to stalk the clearing, her feathered cape rustling with her movements. "I suppose you may be right." She turned back to him, smiling. "You seem quite concerned for the Swan Princess. And yet you abandoned her?"

Killian offered his own tight smile. "I admire her fortitude. Do I want her dead? No. But, as she is unable to help me with my revenge, I felt it best to leave. I have my own quest to finish."

The Queen regarded him silently for a moment. She then inclined her head once in a royal acknowledgment. "To each their own, I suppose." She wandered back toward him and stopped within arms' reach. "I concede your point about killing the Princess. Emma's death will only make me look bad in Henry's eyes, and I don't want him to see me as…as the Evil Queen. Besides, _my_ revenge was completed when Snow White died. Everyone else was just icing, so to speak. In that case, I will make the Swan the same offer I once made her mother."

She took a deep breath, and when she spoke, her voice rang out, making her words into a proclamation, and Killian nearly laughed at her theatrics. "The Princess will live. I'll even remove the transformative curse from her. But in return, she must renounce all claim to her birthright, and name me as the rightful ruler of the Northern Kingdom, Terrapomuria, and Saint-George. And then she must leave the Enchanted Forest, forever."

"Did you have a destination for her in mind?" Killian wondered. The Princess "leaving the Enchanted Forest" sounded a lot like one of those loopholes to him.

"Anywhere," she said, waving off the concern as if it were a trifling matter not to concern a Queen. "There are plenty of other Realms where she can live out the remainder of her life. As soon as she picks one, I'll toss her into a portal myself."

Despite the Queen's less than friendly attitude toward the Princess, Killian considered her proposition on Emma's behalf. What Regina offered was almost exactly what Emma claimed to want. The only point of contention was Henry. There was no way Emma would willingly give him up now that she had him. She had fought like a tigress to get him back when the Queen's men had taken him.

Was there any way for Emma to take the boy with her when she left, secretly? Or, if secrecy was not to be had, at least could she snatch Henry quickly enough that the Evil Queen had no chance to stop their escape? Of course, if Henry disappeared, the offer of the Queen's help in Killian's quest to kill the Dark One would also no doubt be revoked. How could he get what he wanted without selling out the Princess or the boy?

But did he actually need to worry about what happened to them? Henry had hardly been abused by the Queen. He had admitted to having been pampered, well-educated, and treated like the Prince he was. Could he really judge whether or not the Queen loved the lad? Perhaps she did. She was doing more than his own father had done, fighting to get the boy back instead of deserting him. And Emma had only had her son for a matter of days. Even if she managed to disappear with him, she and Henry would be forced to live as fugitives. That was no way for a child to live. Perhaps it would be best for Henry to be raised by the woman who could give him the most advantages. Growing up as the heir to a vast territory was nothing to sneeze at.

Surely Emma would see that. If she wanted to leave and have her curse removed, she would agree to Regina's offer. And as his mother, Emma would do what was best for Henry so that he would have his best chance. What better chance could a boy have than to grow up to become a king?

He nodded. "Aye, I agree to your plan, provided you're sincere about letting the Princess live. Emma only wants what's best for the boy."

"Wonderful," the Queen purred. "And _you_ will take my offer to her yourself. She is to meet me at tomorrow at midnight…down there, in that _squalid_ little town." She waved at the village below where the first lanterns were being lit to start the day. "Urge Emma to take my deal. Then, when _she_ is gone, and _I_ have my son…" She stepped back in close, her fingers curling in the lapel of his coat, her smile widening into something lascivious. "Then _we_ can turn our attention to our mutual enemy."

"The Crocodile," he growled, already picturing the monster dead at his feet.

"Descriptive!" she exclaimed, cackling. "I like it."

He quirked an eyebrow at her and tossed back his own smirk to match hers.

"Yesss," she said, her sibilant hiss raising the hair on the back of his neck. "Rumpelstiltskin will die."

* * *

 **A/N:** Don't be afraid! I do know what I'm doing. Killian is experiencing some frustration, and we all know how well he deals with set-backs. He and Emma haven't known each other long yet, so he's still pushing at her to try and get what _he_ wants rather than thinking about what is really best for her. For how, he's still in villain mode, and as Arial pointed out in "Poor Unfortunate Souls," villains always go about getting their happy endings the wrong way. He just needs a kick in the pants to realize that the wrong way is…well, really, really WRONG.


	12. To Be, or Not To Be

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of _Once Upon a Time_. This is story is not intended for profit, just as a tribute to the amazing writing, characters, and intricate plots therein.

 **Additional Disclaimer:** Chapter title courtesy of William Shakespeare. You know this one.

 **Author's Note: _Happy Spring Premier Day!_ ** And sorry again for the delay in posting. This is a very self-reflecty chapter. Killian has a LOT of thinking to do in the near future, partly spurred on by a new/familiar character. Hang in there! Also, if any additional family drama and backstory is revealed in tonight's episode, or in the season-half to come, pretend like it doesn't exist if it conflicts with anything in this fic. You know the drill!

 _ **Thanks to Willofthewisp for her beta skills!**_

 **Chapter 12: To Be, or Not To Be**

* * *

He waited until he had caught a few hours of sleep on the hillside before he returned to the village that the Princess's forces were based—whether she wanted those forces or not. He spent his return journey thinking of he would say, how he would convince Emma to meet Regina, how he could help persuade her that giving Henry back to his adoptive mother would be in the boy's best interest. Hell, how would he explain his loss of temper last night, for that matter?

Good thing the ride back seemed interminably longer than the ride out had been. He did not recall going through a magical loop last night, but even having dozed away the morning, it still took more time than he recalled spending on horseback to make his way back to the village than it had been to leave it. When his horse eventually trotted into the village again, the sun was nearing the horizon, and his prepared speech had gotten as far as, "Swan, I need to talk to you."

The rest he would have to make up as he went.

The sound of the horse's hooves on the cobbles drew people—more than he remembered from the day before—out of the main hall. David strode out ahead of them to confront him.

"Where the hell have you been?" David demanded. "Why would you leave like that? Emma said that you two had some sort of disagreement, and Henry said you told him you were returning to your ship."

"Well then, you just answered your own questions," he said as he dismounted. At the mention of Henry, his conscience stabbed at him. Henry's injured expression had been a persistent itch to his conscience all day, underneath all of the other irritations he had accumulated since the last sunset. He should never have been so harsh with the boy. "Where _is_ Henry? I believe I need to apologize to him. I…was quite rude yesterday."

"He's down by the pond," David said. "You can see him in a minute, though _he's_ not very happy with you, either." David's jaw was clenched, and he reached out to stop Killian with a hand on his shoulder when he would have moved past him. "It seems like you were more than just 'rude' yesterday evening. Now, do you want to tell me what your 'disagreement' with Emma was about?" David's jaw was clenched as he met Killian's eye.

"Didn't she tell you?" he asked, shrugging off David's hand to lead the horse into the stable.

David followed behind, huffing in annoyance. "No, only that you'd gone to talk with her—after you had told me to give her space, I should add—and that you had an argument. I can guess that you said something about her role as the Savior, since the whole reason you were travelling with Henry when you found me was because you needed to find her to get your happy ending back, but Emma neglected to share the specifics of your conversation."

"In that case, I'll not share them, either," he said. "What was said was between Emma and I will remain between us. It was unpleasant, and…I owe her an apology as well as Henry. Let's leave it at that."

After unsaddling the horse and making sure the beast had enough water and fodder, he set the saddle bag down in a corner of the stall before he turned to face David. The shepherd-king stood with his arms crossed over his chest and narrowed eyes. "You won't tell me what happened, fine. But can you at least promise it won't happen again?"

He shifted from foot to foot as he thought how to phrase his answer. By tomorrow, all of their lives would be different, one way or another. And convincing Emma would surely cause another fight. He did not want to lie to David, but he could hardly refuse to make some sort of promise, or it would seem suspicious. Finally, he licked his lips and said, "I give you my word that I won't deliberately antagonize her again. And I'll do my best not to lose my temper with her and storm off."

David shook his head, sighing. "If that's the best you can manage, I suppose it will have to do." He took a step closer, the angry lines on his face softening, and now the hand that settled on Killian's shoulder was gentle, and Killian had to look away. "We've come this far together," David said gently, almost fatherly. "I'd hate to see you go now. You helped me find my daughter and bring what is left of my family back together. At the very least, I would hope that we can help you find whatever it is you're looking for in return."

Damn. Damn, double damn, and buggering hell. The sharp, sweet tang of bile crept up his throat as he stood stone-still under David's kind words. It was not betrayal, he told himself. Whatever he did, whatever bargains he had made, it was not betrayal since he did not owe David, or Henry, or Emma anything. It wasn't.

Killian motioned for David to lead the way out of the stable, pausing a moment before following behind to take a deep breath and clear his head. Once outdoors, breathing in air that was not perfumed by barnyard animal, he was again struck by the number of people that seemed to have sprung up in town during his short absence.

"Who are all the newcomers, mate?"

"These are the allies that Grumpy mentioned last night, before you left," David explained as they approached a trio of men gathered around the well.

As they neared, Killian noticed a resemblance between the youngest of the three and the man in the middle. Both were of athletic build, solid, and just-above-average height. And although the younger man had some curl to his shaggy dark brown hair, and his elder boasted a salt-and-pepper gray, they were almost identical in features: same broad face, same narrow nose, same hooded eyes, same easy smile as they talked amongst themselves. The father and son—for what else could they be?—stood beside a behemoth of a man, almost a full head taller than the rest of them, with a mass of thick, curly hair, a full beard, and an overall demeanor that reminded him of a grizzly bear.

"Hook, I'd like you to meet the leaders of the Merry Men, a band of thieves and freedom fighters from Sherwood Forest. This is Robin Hood, his son Roland, and this is Little John. Their compatriots are camped throughout the village, and they've agreed to join us when we face Regina."

Robin Hood appeared to be the leader. He stepped forward to shake hands while the other two simply nodded. "When the dwarves told us that you lot were mounting an opposition, we were eager to help. The Evil Queen has been encroaching on Sherwood Forest for the past several years, and it's been making life difficult for the residents."

"Since King John took the throne, things in Sherwood have gone from bad to worse," Roland explained, his smile morphing into an angry scowl. "He has allied with Regina, and her Black Knights are helping collect the taxes and tariffs throughout the Forest, driving the peasants into poverty."

"So we thought we'd come and help kick the Evil Queen back to whatever dark cave she crawled out of," Little John rumbled with a cocky, round-cheeked grin.

Killian smirked at the big man. "You sound confident."

Robin chuckled. "What Little John means is, if we can remove the Queen and her magic, then we hope that a new political ally—the Princess—will be able to pressure King John to change his ways."

"I've never known royalty to bend to outside pressure, myself," Killian mused. "But I imagine having someone besides the Evil Queen on the throne will help your cause. Best of luck. I hope your king does change his ways. Otherwise, you may need a more direct approach."

"I'm hoping it doesn't come to that," Robin admitted, glancing at his son with concern. No doubt he foresaw the cost a war would bring. Killian felt a stab of jealousy for the younger man, to have a father who gave a damn about his wellbeing.

"Forcing the King to change is not our only reason for joining you in your quest to defeat the Queen," Roland insisted, his jaw clenching. Robin placed a hand on his son's shoulder and opened his mouth, but Roland shrugged his father off. "Queen Regina is responsible for my mother's death. This is a personal matter for me, and I want to ensure that she is finally made to pay for all of the lives she has taken."

"Roland," Robin cautioned.

Roland lifted his chin, refusing to back down. "Even if the Princess does nothing to help us oust King John, I'll consider defeating the Evil Queen reward enough for our help."

"It was never confirmed that the Evil Queen killed her," Robin reminded him.

Roland turned on his father, eyes narrowed and blazing. "We've spoken to witnesses who saw that woman take Mother away! The Queen staged a mass execution of prisoners a few days later, and we never saw Mother again. What more proof do we need?"

Killian inched back a step, avoiding eye contact with the men. This would throw a kink in his plans. If this young man wanted revenge for his mother's death by killing Queen Regina, it would seriously cock up his own agreement with the Queen. He respected Roland's motive, but it was damned inconvenient at the moment.

"The Queen is a villain, and she must be stopped," Roland affirmed. "She does as all villains do; she hurts everyone around her to get her own way. She only cares about serving herself, and her subjects be damned. Hell, even her own knights are victims of her selfishness! She'll send them into a trap knowingly if she has something to gain. She cares nothing for who gets hurt, as long as she gets what she wants."

Killian knew that David responded to Roland, though he could not make out the words over the ringing in his ears. An acidic burn crept up his throat as a voice he recognized as his brother's shouted at him from the back of his mind. Selfish…careless with others…a villain.

But that was the Crocodile, not him. He was hardly a good man, but he was not a villain. He was only doing what needed to be done, ridding the world of a monster, and if he had to sacrifice people along the way…

Selfish.

Careless of others' lives.

No. He was not a villain. A pirate, yes, so perhaps that made him the villain in the lives of some, but not a Villain.

Killian cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the men around him, and offered them a tight smile. "It appears the sun will be down shortly," he said, nodding toward the mill pond. "Pleasant as this has been, I have some apologizing to do. If you'll excuse me?"

"Of course," David said. "And Hook?"

Killian turned back, raising his eyebrows. "Mm?"

"If she's anything like her mother, she may hit you."

He knew he was supposed to laugh, but the boiling acid in his stomach disinclined him to make any sudden movements. He rubbed the back of neck as he nodded. "If she does, I'll deserve it."

He walked away before anyone could say anything further. The mill was on the other side of town. He passed a number of homes and shops along the dusty street, abandoned and alone as the light disappeared and the shadows of the surrounding forest crept into the village. His thoughts chased themselves, each advancing upon the previous with every footstep.

He was in the right, he knew he was. His choice was the only one he could make. For himself, for Milah. He was so close! If Emma refused to help him, he had to find someone who would. Regina was his best chance.

 _I hate this,_ he thought, his chest tightening, and he had to concentrate to breathe normally. He was about to send Henry back to a woman he despised. He would betray David's trust in him. If he had ever believed he was honorable, all honor had surely fled him now, he realized, feeling the weight of his actions heavy on his shoulders. An honorable man did not undermine the hopes and dreams of so many people.

Liam never would. Liam would have been appalled. But Liam had also been blind. He was too willing to believe what others told him, never thinking for himself. He never doubted, even when Killian told him he was being an idiot. Killian knew he had to change tactics if the situation altered. He had joined this quest believing that the Princess would help him get his revenge for Milah's death. Emma would not even fight the Queen for herself; she would never go against the Dark One to avenge a woman she had never met.

For a moment, he wondered if Milah and Emma would have liked one another. Both women had fire in their souls, though Emma's had been dampened by long years of solitude. Both were handy with a sword and fearless in a fight. It was pure fantasy, of course, but they had many traits in common. Both strong and stubborn. They would either have been fast friends or bitter enemies, he concluded with a slight smile.

He had taken Milah with him when he left her little, mud-encrusted village. She had been a bright spark, too beautiful and rare to be left with her puny, craven, piss-poor excuse for a husband. But in taking her away…had he helped to create the monster the spinner had become? One choice, one action he had made so long ago—how many deaths had been the result? From the stories he had heard, scores, if not hundreds, of people had died at the hands of the Crocodile. The rumors he had heard indicated that Rumpelstiltskin was the deadliest and least controllable Dark One to walk the Realm in centuries, perhaps since the first Dark One.

If he helped Regina to send Emma away to some other Realm, if he helped the Evil Queen kill Rumpelstiltskin, who then would be there to stop Regina? Would he once again create a monster that would spread evil through their world unchecked?

But what choice did he have? If he gave up now, after centuries of waiting, he would never have another chance to kill the Crocodile, and Milah would go unavenged. He would sooner forget she ever existed, forget everything she was to him than let that happen! It was exactly what would happen if he did not take this deal Regina offered him.

Damn them all…and damn himself. Nothing in his life made any sense any more. But he had to do this. It was the only way. And anyway, Emma would probably jump at the chance to leave this Realm and all her troubles and responsibilities behind.

With that in mind, Killian looked up and found that his feet had taken him across the entire hamlet without him noticing. He stood at the head of the path that ran beside the dilapidated mill and down to the pond. With one final gulp to swallow down the tight knot in his throat, he forced himself to face Emma and Henry, ready to do what was necessary.

Henry sat on a stone stile at the bank of the pond, a little manufactured channel that once fed the waterwheel that turned the grist stone inside the mill. While the shadows deepened throughout the village, here the water seemed to reflect the last light of day creating a soft glow around the pond where Emma Swan in her snow white plumage paddled near her son's dangling legs, his bare toes skimming the surface. The lad was telling his mother a story, and Killian wondered if Emma, as a swan, could understand human speech, or if she just enjoyed her son's company.

He hesitated a moment, not wanting to interrupt and to give himself time to think. Emma in her avian shape could make this apology easier as she would be unable to say anything back, at least until the sun set. Of course, if she was unable to understand him, that would complicate matters. He felt an ache start between his eyes.

Henry was the first to look up, and Killian winced at the wary expression on the lad's face. His little features were pinched with uncertainty, and Killian wanted to kick himself for having put that doubt there. Slowly, using the slickness of the stones and grass around the pond as an excuse to avoid their gaze for a few moments longer, he made his way toward them, and finally stopped a respectful arms' reach from either.

Killian cleared his throat, scratching the side of his neck as he admitted, "I suppose I owe the both of you an apology for my behavior yesterday."

"Yep," Henry replied, eyes narrowed. "So let's hear it."

He raised his brow at the boy, but Henry just smirked back at him. Precocious little brat, he thought fondly. In a few years' time, the lad would be a force to be reckoned with. He almost wished he would be around to see it.

"I'm sorry," Killian apologized. "Swan, I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. You have your reason for your actions and opinions, and I understand them—some of them, anyway. As for the rest…I suppose I don't have a right to judge you, even if I don't agree with you."

For a few long seconds, Emma remained still, floating atop the murky water. Killian got the impression that she didn't want to forgive him. He could hardly blame her; what he had said was harsh—true as it was. If it had been the other way around, he was not sure he would be able to forgive her. He felt his heartbeat speed up. If she refused to listen to him, refused to at least accept his apology if not forgive him, then how would he convince her to listen to his offer from the Queen? Well, he would just have to make her forgive him. He had plenty of experience charming women…although so far, he had not had to rely on trickery with Emma. He realized now that he did not want to have to resort to it now.

But finally, she bowed her head once in a regal acknowledgement of his apology. Killian knew that this was only the first sally of the night with the Princess, and an even greater battle lie ahead, but even so, he sighed in relief. Next, he turned to Henry. If anything, this apology came harder, knowing that he was about to betray the boy's trust so soon after mending their friendship. But there was one thing he could apologize for with no qualms.

"Henry, I'm sorry that I spoke so harshly to you," he said, squatting down in front of the boy. "It wasn't directed at you, not really. I was angry and frustrated, and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I took my temper out on you. I shouldn't have shouted at you, and I shouldn't have pushed you. Can you forgive me?"

Henry considered him through narrowed, serious eyes for a moment, but a tentative smile pulled at the boy's mouth, and Killian felt his shoulders relax. When Henry finally said, "I guess I forgive you," Killian found that his answering smile came easily.

"Thank you, lad."

"After all," he mused, nodding his head, "if the hero believed right away, it wouldn't be much of a story."

Killian winced. "I'm not a hero, Henry. Believe me."

The boy gave him a wise look, almost smirking at him. "You know, you and my mom have a lot in common. Neither of you knows who you really are or what you're capable of. That fairy we talked to? Nova? She saw it. She knew. Now _you_ just have to figure it out," Henry assured Killian as he climbed to his feet. "I told you, you're supposed to be here with us. It's fate, so you _have_ to stick around. You just doubted yourself for a while, but I'm glad you came back. We still need to figure out how to defeat Regina. I know my mom doesn't want to fight," he added, tilting his head in Swan's direction, "but I know that if we try, we'll think of something."

Killian glanced at the swan, catching her eye. She tilted her head, and he could almost see the inquisitive, challenging arch her brows would be making if she were in human form. He knew that she was replaying their conversation from last night.

"I certainly hope that there's an alternative, lad." It was the only thing he could promise the boy. There was an alternative, though gods knew Henry would not like it. Even if they somehow managed to keep the boy with his true mother, they would be leaving their realm to the Evil Queen.

"We'll find one," Henry assured him, nodding, unaware that his confidence only made the hard ball of guilt in Killian's stomach tighten that much more.

Before the moment became too uncomfortable, Emma's long neck extended, lifting her head up to the darkening sky. Then, with a lurch and a few beats of her wings, she left the water and landed on the stile next to Henry. The next moment, the sun fully set, casting the sky in shades of pink and lavender as the moon—just a few days past full—shone through the treetops over the village. The swirl of purple-black sorcery engulfed Emma for a moment, hiding her from their eyes before it dissipated, and she was once again a human woman standing in front of Henry and Killian.

Emma sighed as she stretched her shoulders and neck. "I don't know how true swans live with a neck that long."

Killian smiled at Emma's attempt to lighten the mood. He felt like a cad, knowing that he was going to shatter this peace in a moment. He cleared his throat and turned to Henry. "Lad, could you give us a minute?"

Henry looked up at Emma with his brows raised. She smiled down at him and nodded. "Go ahead. I'll be up for dinner after Hook and I are finished talking."

Henry nodded back and picked up his discarded boots and stockings. Before he scampered off entirely, Killian called after him, "Henry?"

"Yeah?" the boy said, stopping to look back.

"I truly am sorry." Killian could not say what for. He was about to destroy this child's life, and he could see no way to avoid it now. But he did feel guilty, and he could acknowledge that. Perhaps one day Henry would look back on this moment and understand the real reason behind his apology.

Henry smiled. "You were upset. I forgive you."

Killian gave him a tight smile, the knot in his stomach creeping up into his chest. He watched Henry job up the path beside the mill that led to the main road, and shook his head. He was a good lad, which made him feel worse, damn it.

"So," Emma said as soon as Henry was out of earshot. "What did you want to speak to me about?"

He pulled in a deep breath, turning back to her, and offering Emma a charming smile. "I come bearing an offer."

She seemed unimpressed, whether with his opener or with his smile, he did not dare guess. Likely both. "An offer?" she asked, her brow furrowing.

"Mm," he confirmed. He stepped away, turning to look out over the pond where the moon was reflected in the dark water. "While I was away, I had an interesting conversation with your step-grandmother."

"Regina?" Emma asked, retreating from him with wide eyes. "You spoke with Regina?"

"Aye," he said. "We had a chat. She has an offer for you."

Emma stepped back, putting even more distance between them. "Are you _crazy_? Why are you telling me this? Why are you even here?" she demanded, her voice rising.

"Easy, Swan," he soothed her, moving forward to try to calm her, but she pulled away when he reached out as if he had admitted to having a deadly disease.

Emma shook her head, her mouth hardening into a frown. "An offer? From the Evil Queen? She wants to _kill_ me, you remember that, don't you? She wants to destroy my whole family."

"She wanted to destroy your mother," Killian corrected. "She's willing to let _you_ live, if you agree to her terms."

She pulled in a deep breath, closing her eyes. "'Her terms?'" she asked.

He took a deep breath, tapping his fingers against his thigh. "The Queen wants you to renounce all claim to the throne, and go to live in exile in another Realm…"

He stopped, unable to go on. He cleared his throat, attempting to wet his suddenly dry mouth and finish the Queen's ultimatum, but Swan beat him to it. Clever lass, she stared at him with betrayal in her eyes as she finished for him.

"I'm to go without Henry, though, aren't I?"

He swallowed past the tightness in his throat and forced himself to confirm, "Aye, without Henry. The lad returning to Regina is part of the deal."

"Are you joking?" Emma demanded, her voice rising. "Are you actually serious right now? My son was just rescued from Regina's Knights, and now you want me to hand him over to her?"

"It's not ideal—"

"Not ideal?" she cut him off. "I abandoned my son once already, I'm not about to leave him again."

Killian shook his head. "No, Swan. Regina _took_ him from you; that's not the same thing."

"No, I did," she insisted. "You were right about me being angry at my father and Aunt Red, about how they stopped looking for me. But the truth is, I did same thing to Henry. I abandoned him as much as my father abandoned me. I gave up hope of finding him, of finding any of them. _I_ stopped looking, too. I stopped trying to get him back, and instead, I hid…because it was easier. But I'm not going to do it again. I _just_ got him back. I'm not going to let him go again."

So she saw that, did she? He had wondered if she noticed the parallel between herself and her father, each one losing hope of finding their children and hiding from life instead. She did see it, and she was willing to face it. Good for her.

She turned away and planted her hands on her hips. She pulled in a deep breath, shaking her head. "I refuse to give Henry back to that tyrant."

"Think about this, Swan," he urged her, holding his hand out in appeal. "You said yourself that you wouldn't fight her. You said it was impossible to win. You told me that you don't want to be queen."

Emma flinched under the reminders, causing him to wince in sympathy. Hurting her was not what he intended. Not now. _Now_ , he was trying to offer her a chance to survive.

"Don't think of it as giving Henry back to a tyrant," he said. "I believe that Regina loves him, as much as she is capable of loving anyone. The lad was never harmed in her custody. He was pampered and cared for. As a prince, he has every opportunity to become a man worthy of great renown. If you take him with you into exile—even if it's by your own means and not through the Queen," he cut her off when she opened her mouth to argue. "If you take him away, he will end up living as an outcast in society, on the run, constantly looking over his shoulder, just as you will, waiting for the day when Regina's forces catch up with you. At least with Regina, he has a chance to grow up and become the kind of ruler that you feel you cannot be, the kind of king you say your brother would have been. Regina cannot live forever. And when he's king, he can find you again and bring you home."

"Even…" she began, then had to catch her breath to keep her tears at bay. "Even if what you say is true, and Regina lets me live, how could I trust that she wouldn't later decide I was too much of a threat and come after me?"

"You would be safely in another Realm, for one," he pointed out. "Travel between Realms is never easy."

"But if Regina is the one controlling the portal, she can come after me whenever she wants. That's the benefit of her having magic." She huffed and paced away. "The only Realm I know of that Regina's magic wouldn't be a threat is the one she intended to curse us all to live in, the Land Without Magic, the one through the wardrobe…" She pulled in a sharp breath, meeting Killian's gaze with eyes alight with sudden inspiration. "The wardrobe!"

Killian shook his head. "Catch me up here, Swan. You've lost me."

She stepped close to him, her voice lowering but her words speeding up as her excitement mounted. "When Regina was going to cast the Dark Curse, the Blue Fairy told my parents of the last enchanted tree that remained in our kingdom. From the tree, the most skilled craftsman in the land carved a magic wardrobe that would act as a portal from this world to a land _without_ magic, the same one that Regina's curse would banish us to. I was supposed to go through it ahead of the curse so that I wouldn't get caught up in it. That way, when I was old enough, I could break the curse because I'm the Savior—or, I was supposed to be." She waved her Savior-status off like a buzzing fly, her face pursed in irritation. "When the curse didn't come, my parents stored the wardrobe away to prevent anyone using it, in case it was ever needed in the future. Regina never knew about the wardrobe, so she would have no reason to go looking for it!"

"And you think this wardrobe will be able to take you to safety," he surmised. It was silly to be proud of her for such a painful insight, but here Emma stood, willing to fight for her son, if not her kingdom, and his heart swelled to see it.

"In a world with no magic, Regina would be powerless," she insisted. "And since she's not exactly known for getting her hands dirty by fighting fairly, _I_ would be the one who had the upper hand in such a Realm. And best of all, I could take Henry with me and she would be completely incapable of following."

"How many people would this wardrobe transport?" he asked, frowning.

"My friend Pinocchio said it could only take two," she said, her breath shallow in her delight. "That's what makes it so perfect!"

"And you trust your friend?"

She nodded, saying, "He was the closest thing I ever had to a big brother. He confessed that his father had intended to send him through the wardrobe without telling my parents that the portal would take two. But when we were older, he said that he had to tell the truth, or he wouldn't be able to live with himself should the curse come and there was a chance I might be sent alone."

"How gallant of him," Killian muttered, annoyed that he felt a twinge of jealousy that Emma seemed to hold her friend's actions in high esteem when there was still the matter of the initial lie which may have separated her from her family had the curse been enacted when Regina had originally planned.

Emma frowned at him. "Pinocchio was far from perfect, believe me. He struggled with doing the right thing his whole life, but he did his best. He became a knight in my parents' army, and from what my father said, he _died_ trying to protect my little brother. So yes, I trust what he told me all those years ago…because I believe that he would have done _anything_ to make sure my family was safe."

Killian nodded deeply, accepting her defense of her friend. No, she had called him family, so she had lost _two_ brothers to Regina. And she still wanted to run rather than fight. I did not understand her.

"How can you not want vengeance?" he wondered. "I, too, lost my brother. When he died, I wanted nothing more than to make the person responsible pay."

"Did it bring him back?" she asked, throwing her arms wide. "Did the one you wanted to make pay actually feel badly about what he did?"

He clenched his jaw and looked away, rolling his tongue across the back of his teeth. His king had probably never noticed Liam's death beyond the fact that he did not get the Dreamshade poison. The war that had raged between his kingdom and their neighbor had continued on, unchecked, for years afterward. Nothing had changed except Killian and his crew. It was a constant burn in his chest that his brother's death had meant so little to the man who had set him on his course.

"So, no?" Emma surmised from his silence. "Then what good did your vengeance do? What good would it do for me to pursue revenge against Regina for James or Pinocchio or my mother? They'll still be gone, and I risk losing even more people I love. If I can leave with Henry, then we're safe. I don't have to lose him again. I have a chance to move on and be happy."

Killian licked his lips, still refusing to look at her. She could not be right. If she was…then what the hell was he doing with his life? But then, he had no one else to live for. He did not have a child or a family to think of, not like Emma did. She was surrounded by people who loved her, and that meant they could be used against her. He had no one, so his revenge could hurt no one but himself.

But Emma had Henry. And, he realized, he could not take the boy away from her, despite all the logical reasons that he had given himself to justify returning him to Regina. And if he could get Emma and Henry to safety without the Queen finding out, he may be able to salvage his agreement with her to kill the Crocodile.

"Alright, Swan," he yielded. "You believe you can take Henry with you if you flee the Realm. If so, and if you can make it look like I was not aiding you," he added, holding up a warning finger, "then I'll help. Where is this wardrobe you're seeking?"

Emma smiled for a moment before a new thought creased her brow in agitation. "It's in Castle Saint-George."

Killian took a deep breath, closing his eyes as a headache formed behind his eyes. "You mean the castle that Henry ran away from? The one in which Regina is currently residing?"

"That's the one."

So, they would have to evade the Evil Queen and he Black Knights in order to get the wardrobe.

Unless they wouldn't.

"Then perhaps you need to see Regina after all," he suggested.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Oh my god, this chapter gave me SO MUCH TROUBLE! You have no idea. And now, Hook and Emma are off on a side-mission. Stay tuned to see what happens when Regina and Emma meet face-to-face.

Also, if you want to see what I imagine little Roland would grow up into, look for pictures of Diego Boneta. I think he and Sean Maguire share a lot of physical similarities, and he also has the darker skin tone, eye color, and hair that Roland inherited from Marion on the show. I think Diego could pass as an older Roland, so that's my casting choice.


	13. Am I To Risk My Life?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Once Upon A Time_ or the characters or settings therein. This is a work of fanfiction created for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made from this story.

 **Additional Disclaimer:** Today's chapter title comes, once again, from the musical _The Phantom of the Opera_.

 _ **Important Author's Note:**_ I debated with myself where to put this note, or if I should even add it at all, but in the end, I feel like I have to head off anyone who may want my head. I want to make a few things clear. The first is that I _like_ Regina. I like who she is as a character, where she's come from, how she evolved from an emotionally abused girl to a lonely and spiteful woman, a desperate mother, and finally to this new version, Regina 2.0 as it were: a woman who has earned the respect and the trust of those she once terrorized. Once again, let me reiterate, I LIKE REGINA.

That being said, this fic takes place in a different timeline than the show does. The Regina in this fic has made many different choices, and her path has diverged from the Regina we know from _Once Upon A Time_. This fic is not titled "Nodus Tollens" for nothing. Killian is not the only one who has had the plot of his life (the one that we watch every Sunday night) twisted into a story that does not make sense to him anymore. Everyone's plot has changed because, in this fic, Regina made one choice differently than what we know happened: she did not kill her father to enact the Dark Curse. This fic is a study in how one alternate choice can affect so many different people in different ways.

And this Regina has not had a redemption arc. This Regina has never had to face the fact that she is largely the author of her own unhappiness. This Regina still believes that the bad things that have happened to her are always Someone Else's fault. This Regina has spent over three decades in full-on Evil Queen-mode. She has seen in her life that being and doing evil will get her what she wants. She won! Snow White is dead. The kingdom is hers. She has no reason to want to change. This Regina lives in darkness, and she likes it that way. This Regina is at the height of her villainy, and every choice she makes is a reflection of her character as she is here and now: the Evil Queen, ruler of three kingdoms, feared by all.

So be kind, dear readers. Life is cruel, and bad things happen. Evil begets evil.

 **Chapter 13: Am I to Risk My Life?**

* * *

Killian wondered at how he and Swan had gotten out of the village unseen. Emma had sent her father and the dwarves on a wild goose chase—no pun intended—while Killian had saddled a pair of horses. Still, that no one had seen them leave, nor had attempted to stop them if they had, was surprising. Killian decided to take it as a sign that he was doing the right thing. Ever since he landed back in the Enchanted Forest, Fate, it seemed, had given him a helping hand. First he had literally run into Henry, then the loops in the forest that had brought him closer and closer to the Princess, and now he had the chance to skin his Crocodile as well as provide Emma with the escape she craved. Clearly, he was on the right path.

The catch in his chest with every breath he wrote off as anticipation.

"How much farther?" Emma asked, shifting in her saddle.

"Not far now," he said over his shoulder. He felt somewhat bad for her. He had not considered how awkward riding astride would be for her in a dress or that she might be out of practice. But even now, he could not help appreciating the expanse of ankle and shin she revealed with her hem rucked up like that. It was a shame that their acquaintance would be over soon.

They arrived in the little town Regina had chosen for their rendezvous just before midnight. The iron shoes on their horses' feet seemed loud on the dry, dusty dirt road while the inhabitants slept. Not even a dog barked as they rode to the main square. Killian would almost swear he heard the deep, even breathing of the townsfolk behind their wooden shutters. The call of an owl was the only other noise.

A prickling of unease raised the short hairs on the back of his neck. This was a small town full of sleeping peasants. And the woman whose moniker was the Evil Queen had chosen this to be her meeting spot. He swallowed past the nervous tightening in his throat and concentrated on the task at hand.

"Do you see her?" Emma whispered scanning the village.

"Not yet," Killian said, searching the shadows between houses for even a glint of metal that would give warning of an ambush. "I don't see anyone else, either."

"That's because you're not looking in the right place, dears," Regina's melodious purr announced from behind them.

Emma wheeled her horse around, causing the animal to rear and toss its head before Emma calmed it. Killian turned his mount around more slowly and kept a firm hand on the reins to keep it from reacting to the other horse's antics. Behind them, Regina stood in a long, flaring coat that cut open wide at her hips, revealing black leather trousers tucked into thigh-high black boots. The coat buttoned up tightly from her waist to her breasts, accentuating her slim lines and full feminine assets. A feathered riding hat perched atop her glossy dark hair, still able to cast a gleam even in the moonlight. She was an impressive sight, striking in her coiffed and groomed elegance, especially in comparison to the course, undyed homespun frock Emma wore, her blond hair hanging free down her back, kept out of her face only by a twist of fabric.

It was a study in contrasts, the darkness and the light. Killian could appreciate the drama the Evil Queen's costume afforded her, but his eyes strayed back to the silver glow illuminating Emma as she stared down the woman who had caused her so much grief.

"I'm surprised you showed up," Regina admitted. "Honestly, I was beginning to think you were too weak and frightened to face me."

"You were wrong," Emma said. "And for the record, I've never been afraid of you."

"Really? So you fled from me countless times because…?" she trailed off, arching one dark brow and her mouth pulled up in a smile.

Killian watched Emma's jaw clench and her nostrils flare as she fought to keep hold of her temper. To forestall this becoming a useless contest of egos, he dismounted, slowly so as not to startle the Queen into attacking in error. "Why she fled in the past is not the issue of this meeting. We're here to discuss the Princess's departure—unharmed—from the kingdom in return for full abdication."

He held his hand out to Emma and beckoned her down from her horse. If they were to have this meeting, they needed to all be on the same footing. Emma balked, transferring her glare to him briefly, before she pulled in a deep breath and threw her leg over the horse's neck and allowed Killian to help her down. He took the reins of both horses and found a post near one of the storefronts and tied them loosely to keep the mount from wandering away.

"If I decide to take your offer, where do you plan on sending me?" Emma demanded of Regina.

"Anywhere you like, as I told your pirate."

"He's not my pirate," Emma corrected, and Killian rolled his eyes. If she kept this up they would all regress to childhood taunting before they got anywhere.

"Fine, have it your way," Regina said, waving away Emma's comment. "You can go wherever you like—I'd suggest Wonderland. You'll have to look in on the Queen of Hearts and give her my best regards."

Trap, his instincts told him. Wherever Emma went, Wonderland was out of the question.

"I think I'll look elsewhere for my new home," Swan retorted. "In fact, I have a Realm all picked out, and the portal to get there is actually stuck in the attic of Castle Saint-George."

Regina pursed her lips as she thought about that. A portal to another Realm had been hiding under her nose for years. Clearly, she wasn't happy about it, but just as clearly, she could do nothing about it now. "So, you want to come back to your childhood home to go through an oversized doll house covered in spider webs and dust?" She curled her lip in mocking disgust. "Fine. We can leave now if you like," she said, raising her right hand encased in a black riding glove as if she would magic them away now.

"Not quite yet," Emma said. "There's still one big problem. I'm not leaving Henry."

"Oh, yes," Regina chuckled. "You are. I'm afraid that is the crux of the deal. Henry stays with _me_."

"He's my son, and I am not letting you take him again!" she shouted back, face flushing.

Killian heard movement inside one of the houses along the street. "Perhaps we should keep our voices down," he suggested. "Otherwise, we'll have an audience soon."

Emma locked her jaw, but Regina ignored him completely.

"Don't be ridiculous, Princess Swan," the Queen sneered. "You have nothing to offer Henry. I can provide him with a life that you never could—wealth, power, status. As my son, Henry will become a king." She strolled around them, as if they were not-terribly-interesting curiosities at a traveling show, her hand gracefully holding the wide flare of her coat away from her legs as she carefully placed every step. "You, on the other hand, will spend the rest of your life in exile. Is that any life to take Henry into? Would he be happy? What do you have to offer him? Just… _you_. For once, be _sensible_ about Henry's welfare. Leave him here with me. I can give him so much more than you ever could."

Emma flinched, and Killian reached out to touch her elbow. She shifted her shoulders and fired back. "No, I can't offer him those things when I'm gone. But Henry doesn't seem to want your future for him. He's not the kind of child who particularly cares about wealth and power and status—and good for him. What I have to offer him is a mother's love and a life free from _you_. He already ran away from you once—that I know of. I think he'll jump at the chance to never see you again, don't you?"

The Queen's face flushed, and he could see the angry slash of red on her cheeks even in the dark as she stalked toward them. Killian reached out and grasped Emma's elbow as he would pull her back, but she refused to retreat again in the face of the Queen's fury.

"Henry is the only good thing in my life," Regina snarled, the roughness in her voice revealing genuine emotion, perhaps even a kind of love. "Do you think the title of Evil Queen is made with butterfly kisses and chocolate rainbows? I have _earned_ my title. Everyone around me, I must keep at arm's length. They serve me out of fear. But Henry…Henry is the only one I can say is truly _mine_."

"Except he isn't yours," Emma fired back. "And he could never _be_ yours if you keep him like a pet."

"What do you know about being a mother?" Regina spat.

"Nothing, because you took him from my arms just hours after he was born!" Emma shouted, her hands balled into fists as she got right into Regina's face.

More movement, and this time voices came from the houses around them. They were drawing attention, and if the good townsfolk decided to intervene in the Evil Queen's affairs, the night would go from uncomfortable to bloody.

"Ladies—" he tried to intervene only to be cut off by Regina's twisting her spiteful knife into Emma's heart further.

"Yes, I did." The Queen smiled. "And if you think I'll let him slip away now, you are a more of a wide-eyed fool than your mother ever was."

"You bitch," Emma snarled, hands clenched at her sides.

"I think you mean 'Queen,'" Regina corrected, shifting her shoulders in a move that was both regal and aggressive. "Now be a good girl, and see sense. Be a _mother_ , and think of what is best for Henry. If you take my offer—and I highly suggest you do before I change my mind—you will be living in exile as an outcast. I have wealth, status, and power, and once Rumpelstiltskin is dead, I'll have the entire Realm at my feet. And Henry will be heir to all of it."

With a twist of her hand, she pulled a fire ball into being, casting flickering light onto her face and causing her eyes to become glittering, shadowed jewels. "Now, you can either get out of my kingdom and go live in some quaint little hovel by the side of a duck pond somewhere in the back-end of beyond," she said. "Or you can watch me burn this village to the ground."

The Queen launched the fireball straight at them. Killian grabbed Emma by the arm, pulling her close and hunching over her as they both crouched down. He felt the heat as the fireball flew over their heads. He turned to watch where it landed and saw it exploded on a wooden support beam of one of the cottages. Sparks flew up and landed in the thatched roof as the dry wood of the beam instantly began to burn.

Suddenly another wash of heat and light signaled the ignition of a home across the street.

Emma jerked away from him and shouted at the Queen, "Stop! They don't have anything to do with this!"

 _Of course they do,_ Killian wanted to say. This was the reason Regina had chosen this village for their parlay instead of some secluded spot in the woods. She needed hostages.

"You don't have enough magic to destroy a whole village on your own before I stop you," Emma pulled a knife from the top of her boot and rushed Regina.

"Not alone," Regina acknowledged, shrugging as she heated the hilt of the knife, causing Emma to drop it. "But I've discovered a secret about magic. You can get quite a boost by working with fairies."

Emma shook her head, baring her teeth as she cradled her burned hand. "The fairies would _never_ work with you."

"Not willingly, no." Regina held up her hand, and with a slight twisting motion, she conjured an iron cage. Inside, a fairy wearing a multi-tiered yellow dress that sparked almost prettily in the light of the fires the Queen had set lay, incapacitated, on the bottom of the cage. The fairy saw them and tried to reach out through the bars, but the iron hands seemed to burn her and she pulled her hand back, exhausted and weeping. "You see, the trick is to catch them with cold iron. It keeps them nice and safe until you're ready to use them."

Killian and Emma watched, frozen in horror as Regina reached into the cage and took out the weakened fairy, grasping her tightly around the waist. "Then all you have to do…is _squeeze_."

Regina tightened her hand around the fairy's middle. The tiny, weakened pixie struggled for only a moment before she stiffened and collapsed into pure magic. It looked like a tiny ball of sparkling yellow light that began to drift and expand, the edges dissolving into a formless cloud. The Queen inhaled deeply, pulling the yellow cloud of magic inside her. Her eyes rolled back and a look of intoxicated ecstasy shone on her face from the stolen magic.

Emma recovered first, and once again tried to rush her. But Regina opened her eyes, now completely black with dancing yellow and gold sparks, and with a malicious smile, flicked her fingers and tossed Emma halfway across the village.

Killian watched to make sure Emma was not injured, and when he saw her roll onto her side and attempt to sit up, he turned back to Regina. His temper flared in response to the growing knot of cold fear in his belly.

"This was not part of our deal!" Killian shouted at the Queen.

"The deal was that you convince the Princess to leave this Realm, and get me back my son," Regina recited. "She _isn't_ , and you _haven't_. You chose her and the consequences of that decision. The deal is off." She flung him away with as much ease as she had Emma. "You really should have sided with me, Captain."

He landed next to the Princess, his head bouncing on the dirt and gravel of the village main street, all the wind knocked out of him, even as Emma was trying to pull herself to her feet. He lay still for a moment, stunned. There was a ringing in his ears, and his eyes refused to focus for a few seconds. Emma, finally on her feet, ran for the village well and started to pull up the bucket when Regina tossed another fireball at the hut covering the well, and the hemp rope all but disintegrated into ash in Emma's hands.

"You had your chance to keep things civil, dear," Regina taunted. "Now we do this _my_ way." She pulled another fireball and cupped it in her hands.

Killian called Emma's name and she ducked as Regina's missile flew through the space where her head had been.

"I am not going to let you win, Regina!" Emma swore, her face contorted in a fierce grimace.

"Parroting your dead mother, are you?" the Queen taunted. "You want to be a princess, Emma? After all this time? Then save your precious little peasants, and let me send you to whatever realm will take you reeking of failure."

The whoosh of another fireball flying through the air over his head and the crackle of its detonation punctuated the Queen's taunt. The town was ablaze, and the villagers were now pouring out of their homes to escape the fire. The adults began to beat at the flames with blankets and old clothing while the elderly and the children headed for the edge of town at a sprint.

"You're just like Snow White!" Regina ridiculed. "First you run away from your problems, expecting them to just disappear. Then you come back and you're surprised that being a ruler means making hard choices. Well here's your chance!" She tossed another fireball at the building Killian still lay at the foot of, and he rolled into a ball, covering his head with his arms while sparks rained down as the fire caught. "Make the hard choice, Emma. You abdicate and leave, or this village, and all the poor people within it, will go up in flames. As will every town, village, and hamlet that has ever sheltered you. I will wage war on any kingdom that aides you. I will scour the Enchanted Forest of every ally and friend you have ever made."

Every statement, every threat was punctuated with another fireball. Now she wasn't just aiming at the buildings, but at the villagers themselves. More and more people left their houses, screaming, crying, shouting for help, only to discover that there was none. Killian struggled to his feet, his equilibrium not quite returned from his being thrown, and he looked around in growing alarm. The fire had spread to every building, every home. And he knew that this was his doing as much as the Queen's. His fault. He was responsible.

"My mother was the daughter of a miller, did you know that?" the Queen asked, conversationally, moving closer to Emma, a careless bounce to her step. He turned to look at her, wondering what the Queen was up to now. "Mother was the one who told me how combustible flour is. And look!" she gloated, pointing down the street. "This little town has a bakery." She generated another fireball and held it close to her face, the light cutting sharply across her cheekbones.

"Stop!" Emma shouted, holding her hands out as if that alone could stop the missile.

"No," the Queen said. Then she lobbed the fireball at the bakery.

Killian watched it sail through the air almost as if time had slowed and every second stretched into days, years, all the time in the world. Plenty of time to see the toddler crouching in fear under the bakery's awning, her hands covering her eyes, and her bare, dusty toes curled up as she tried to hug herself into a ball. He wasn't going to make it. He knew that. But his feet were under him and he was running, wishing somehow that he could be fast enough to get to the child before the fire did.

And suddenly, an arrow flew past in a blur, and a bundle of rags attached to the shaft just behind the point caught the fire that was meant for the bakery and redirected it into a building already ablaze. Killian skidded to a stop and looked up, following the trajectory the arrow had taken, back up to the ridge where he had stopped the night before. He could just make out the dark shadow of an archer, the moonlight on his back and hiding his face. Before he could tell who it was, the archer ran from his post as the sound of reinforcements joining the fight rose behind him.

Half of him wanted to turn around and rejoin Emma in her opposition to the Queen, but the little girl was still sitting on the stoop of the bakery, cowering in terror. She may have been safe from the Queen's fireball, but she was still in a precarious position out here in the open. Help the girl or help Emma?

Damn it.

He turned his head and found Swan already looking at him. She pointed to the girl and shouted, "Get her!"

He went. It only took him seconds to get to the bakery, and barely stopping, he snatched the little girl up, mindful of his hook. The girl was crying and stiff as a bloody plank in her terror, and he had to carry her like a sack of potatoes, but there was no help for it since she wouldn't uncurl enough for him to hold her properly. He turned and ran down the path, toward the forest in the direction the other villagers had gone.

One of the old women of the village saw him coming and rushed to meet him. He handed the child off with a quick order to keep her safe—and he had a moment of clarity to wonder just who the hell he thought he was giving this grandmother orders regarding a child she knew better he certainly did. But the woman just snatched up the little girl and headed over to the cluster of children already huddled under the trees. Child safe, Killian turned and ran back to the village.

The violent yellow-white light provided by the inferno illuminated his path back to the village. The sound of shouts and screaming echoed in the hills, and then the rumble and hiss of a building collapsing overrode all human noise. The fire had spread too far, too fast. They had to stop the Queen from killing any more people than she already had. A burned village could be rebuilt in time. Lost loved ones were gone forever.

He arrived in time to see the dwarves and the Merry Men helping the villagers combat the fire. Across town, he spied a few brave souls attempting to attack the Queen directly. But she was still powered by the death of the yellow fairy, and she easily flung a half-dozen attackers from her. Two of the dwarves and one of the men crashed through the wall of a burning building, and several of their compatriots left off the battle against flame and tyrant to rescue them. Emma—tenacious, stubborn lass that she was—had rearmed herself and was trying to slash at the Queen, who toyed with her like a tabby with a particularly entertaining mouse.

He thought they were lucky that the Queen had come alone, without her Black Knights. The Queen herself was too distracted by tauntin Emma and the village's wanton destruction to pay much attention to the inhabitants of the buildings she burned, allowing most of the villagers to evacuate. Small mercies, but he was grateful.

David joined his daughter in the fight against Regina, but the Queen just laughed, her elegant, sophisticated mask dropping to reveal a feral, snarling creature, her teeth bared. Killian pulled his sword, finally ready to engage now that most of the civilians were out of harm's way, and ran to join Emma. Guilt burned in his chest and forced the blood in his veins to run as hot as the fire burning around him as he ran to join her.

But once again, he was too slow. Something in the immolated house to his right cracked, clearly audible over the roar of the flames, and then the entire structure screamed and groaned as it fell in brilliant red and gold immolation. Killian ducked and held his arm up to protect his eyes and face from falling debris. When he dared to look up again, he saw the Queen fling her arm out, sending a wave of magic at Emma. Swan ducked behind an abandoned cart, but Regina tossed a fireball at the vehicle, almost causing it to explode in flames before Emma could get away. David hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes flicking to Emma in indecision, but for that instant, he was unguarded, and Killian was too far away.

Regina flicked her wrist and Emma's fallen knife flew into her hand. "You're slowing down, Charming," she taunted him, waving the knife carelessly.

 _Trap,_ Killian thought, his mind racing like a ship before a hurricane wind, urging his feet to go faster. _Don't fall for it, mate—it's a feint_!

David reacted, playing right into her hands. He darted forward using a quick cut aimed at the Queen's open flank, but she transformed the knife into a sword in the blink of an eye and a swirl of dark magic, blocking David's blade. In the same instant, she stepped close to him, her feral grin widening.

"Much too slow," the Queen purred.

Killian ran three steps, knowing he would not make it in time. Regina forced David's sword away and reached her free arm back, fingers curled into claws aimed at the center of the shepherd king's chest.

"No!" Emma shouted.

She was closer. She reached them first. But she didn't attack Regina. She pushed her father out of the way so that she stood in front of the Queen, defenseless, her long hair swinging with the inertia of her sudden stop.

And Regina's hand—already amidst its strike—flashed down and plunged inside of Emma.

Killian skidded to a stop on the gravel road, his ears ringing, and the bitter, metallic lump of his own heart in his throat. He felt like he was frozen in ice, unable to move, unable to breathe. All he could see was the Queen's hand buried wrist-deep in Emma's chest, Swan's eyes wide and shocked as her lips parted in pain.

Regina's eyes widened in surprise before she barked a harsh laugh. "Oh, you stupid girl," she mocked. "Didn't your mother tell you? Love is weakness," she snarled as she leaned away and jerked her arm back to remove the Princess' heart.

But it wouldn't come. Emma lurched forward with the tug on her heart, but the organ—and the Queen's hand—remained firmly in her chest. Killian felt his eyes widen, and he almost dared to breathe. A small part of his brain not immobilized with horror noted that the scene was almost comical. Regina's brows furrowed in confusion, and she tilted her head to one side, lips pursing in consternation. She tugged again, and again Emma swayed forward as her heart refused to budge. After the third failed attempt, she muttered viciously, "What…?"

The Queen stopped tugging and looked up to Emma's face, staring at the Princess in bafflement while the light of realization spread across Emma's face like a rising sun.

"No," Swan whispered, straightening her spine and staring back at the Queen. "It's strength."

A blinding pulse of white light flashed out from Emma's chest, rippling out in concentric circles, forcing the Queen to release Emma's heart, throwing her back and away. Killian felt the light pass through him, bright as the dawn, warm as a hug, and as sweet as a first kiss. If light could have a scent, it would have smelled like the daisies that his mother had planted around their house in the slums when he was a child underlain with the scent of fresh bread. If light could have a sound, it would be of tiny bells and happy laughter. If it had a taste, it would be of cinnamon and sweet, doughy pastry. It was gone as soon as it had come, and he felt empty without it. He craved that light more than rum, more than revenge, more than _anything_ the instant it passed.

The Queen slumped against the shattered wagon, the victim of Emma's magic—for magic it had been—and she stared dazedly up at Emma. While the rest of them were too stunned to move, Grumpy chose not to waste the opportunity. He ran at the Queen, his pick-ax raised above his head. Unfortunately, Regina saw him coming, and with a sneer, she raised her hands in a quick gesture and disappeared in a puff of purple-black magic that blended in with the natural smoke filling the village. Somehow, the ripple of light that had come from Emma had doused a great deal of the fire, and only a few structures still smoldered.

Killian scanned the street to see if she would reappear and found the others doing the same. Everyone gripped their weapons or stood ridged with fear and anticipation for several long seconds before they all relaxed. Apparently the Queen had decided to retire from the field today.

He turned to watch David step in front of Emma, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. Killian could see that while the rest of them had relaxed and returned to the business of trying to mitigate the fire damage the Queen had caused, Swan was still stiff and breathing heavily, her face locked in a mask of confusion.

"Sweetheart?" David said softly. "Are you alright?"

"I…I think so," Emma stammered. She looked up at her father, eyes wide and glittering in the light of a dozen smoldering house fires. "What the hell was that?"

"That…is something we'll have to discuss later," David decided. "For now, I'm just glad you're alive." He pulled her close, and Emma rested her head on his shoulder. David lifted one of his hands to cradle the back of his daughter's head. "Let's help these people, and then I want to have a _long_ talk with you about running off like that."

Killian watched them as he walked over, his heart finally starting to beat a steady rhythm again. Emma sucked in a deep breath, her eyes closed. She nodded into her father's shoulder and gripping the back of his tunic tight. When she opened her eyes, she looked right at Killian, and his breath caught. Fire and destruction and terror all around her, and she never wavered. One act of involuntary magic—light magic, the kind that Henry had insisted was helping them, the kind that Killian had doubted even existed—and she was shaken and afraid. He had never been more astonished by anyone. He wanted to say something, to reassure her that it was all right, that he only thought better of her knowing she had this power that was so unlike any magic he had come across before. He even opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Then, as if she saw something of what he wanted to say in his face, she averted her eyes, her brows pinching. With one last squeeze of her father's shoulders, she let him go and stepped back. When David looked at her in question, she nodded once, smiling slightly. She was fine.

David nodded and then the shouts of the Merry Men and the dwarves still combatting the last of the fire that Emma's magic had not extinguished pulled their attention. David sighed. "At least most of the fire is out."

He stepped away from Emma, but she reached out and grabbed his sleeve.

"Father?" Emma said, her voice small, but her stubborn chin set. "You were right. Regina needs to be stopped. Henry needs a home that is safe and full of love, and the people need a ruler who will protect them and support them like Mother did. And…" She stopped, bowing her head, and licked her lips. "And since there isn't anyone else to do it, I guess that means it has to be me."

Emma lifted her face again, and the moonlight shone down its pure white light on her. The steady, determined glint in her eye making his heart speed again, only this time it was in anticipation.

"I'm ready to fight," she said. "I'm not running anymore."

Killian felt his heart swell, and this time he knew it for what it was. It was hope. He was so proud of her. Emma was ready to stop running, and if she could find the courage and self-confidence to take on a burden she feared so, then surely he could put aside his selfish desires for the time being and help her.

He would, he decided. He would see this quest through to the end. He would help Emma reclaim her kingdom and find a way to remove the curse from her. The Crocodile could wait.

* * *

 **A/N:** So, this was a short one, but action-packed! I hope you enjoyed. This is by no means the last we will see of Regina, and if anyone from this point out has any questions or concerns about the Queen's actions, I will refer you to the note at the beginning of this chapter. Thank you.

And as for Killian being somewhat ineffectual during the battle, well, allow me to refer you back to the source material. That man gets KO'd so much! It can't be good for him.


	14. To Win the Chance to Live

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Once Upon A Time or the characters or settings therein. This is a work of fanfiction created for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made from this story.

 **Additional Disclaimer:** Today's chapter title comes, once again, from the musical _The Phantom of the Opera_. The three _PotO_ lyrics are from the same song, sung by main character Christine Daaé, and read, " _Twisted every way/What answer do I give?/Am I to risk my life/To win the chance to live?_ " It seemed appropriate for both Killian and Emma at this juncture. Also, I borrowed a line from Cordelia from _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ : "Tact is just not saying true stuff." So props to whoever wrote that episode.

 **Authors' Note:** I AM SO, SO, SO SORRY for the long hiatus. It was not intentional. On the bright side, here's another long, heartfelt CS conversation…

 **Chapter 14: To Win the Chance to Live**

* * *

Killian thought that the quiet moment between father and daughter would signal the end of the conversation, but he was proven wrong when David pivoted to face him, eyes blazing and jaw set. Before Killian had a chance to do more than open his mouth to explain himself, the shepherd's fist connected to his nose in a hard jab, rocking his head back and making his eyes water.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, reaching up to feel his nose, trying to determine the extent of the damage. It hadn't been hard enough to break it, he thought, but it still hurt like hell.

"You deserve at _least_ a punch to the face!" David shouted at him. "You made a deal with Regina?! You convinced Emma to meet her. You were going to abandon us!

"At the time, I didn't think I had a choice," Killian said. It sounded stupid to his own ears.

"And now you think you _do_?" David challenged him, crossing his arms over his chest. "How am I supposed to trust you? How am I supposed to believe _anything_ you say _ever_ again, knowing at the first opportunity you could turn on us?"

"I won't, you have my word." And he knew it was not enough. He knew, even as he poured every bit of the sincerity and truth that flowed through him into his words, it would not be enough for David.

"Your word…" the shepherd-king scoffed.

"Yes!" he insisted. "After this, after seeing this…" he waved his hand at the destruction, the damaged and smoldering buildings, some of which had already fallen and several more tilting ominously as the terrified and stunned villagers looked on at the remains of their lives now in ruins.

And Emma…Emma with the Evil Queen's hand clutching her heart inside her very chest. His own heart clenched in sympathy, remembering the Crocodile reaching into his chest, the way his heart had pounded in protest, his lungs constricting, the crushing pain as his vision darkened that awful dawn in the alley of Hamlin. The outcome of that morning was a stark contrast to the outcome of this night. Magic or miracle, he was grateful to whatever power had saved Emma's life and stopped his idiocy from becoming a true disaster.

"Regina is as terrible as the Dark One," he said, finally believing it. He licked his lips and shook his head. "I've done a lot of…reprehensible things in my life, I won't lie. Piracy is not a vocation for the benevolent and forbearing. But I always preferred a _fair_ fight. This?" He gestured again to the burned village. "This was a massacre, and I want no part of it. I would rather stick with those who are fighting the Queen's tyranny and protecting the people of the realm than side with the one who was responsible for _this_."

David glared at him, his breathing still heavy with anger, his jaw locked and his arms tight across his chest. But Emma only tilted her head to the side and considered him. "I thought you didn't care about anyone but yourself?"

It was not an accusation, more of an observation. He could not even be offended as it was the truth not long ago, before Henry, and David, and Red…and her. But things were different now. He acknowledged that part of his eagerness to agree to a deal with the Evil Queen had been because he had felt his anger fading, had felt the loss of his revenge was almost acceptable, and it had scared him. He had feared that to lose the heat of his rage would leave him cold and empty and with nothing better to look forward to than to throw himself into the sea and let it take him down to the depths with Milah and Liam. So he had clung to the thin promise the Queen had offered as a way to keep his anger close and maintain his course to revenge.

Meeting Emma's eyes—green, they were an intriguing hazel green, and he wished he could see them in sunlight, the pirate in him sure that he would find flecks of gold buried in her irises—he considered that he seemed to have traded one kind of heat for another.

And now was the time for honesty. Swallowing quickly, he told her, "Maybe I just needed reminding that I could."

Emma looked up at him, wide eyes flickering across his face, reading him. He put all of his earnestness and commitment to her and the Queen's defeat into his eyes for her to see. He could almost feel the warm brush her gaze fluttering across his face as her eyes flit from one feature to the next, noting every line and every scar. He nearly gulped with how naked her observation made him feel—naked and barely older than Henry, not his normal devilishly handsome self. But he feared an unwarranted twitch or aversion to meeting her eyes would make her doubt him, so he stood at attention and allowed her to see him in a way he had not allowed anyone else for centuries.

It could only have been seconds, a handful of breaths, perhaps a dozen heartbeats, but it felt like an age before Emma blinked and nodded, lashes fluttering. She looked at David, and shrugged. "He did fight for us," she pointed out. "And he tried to get Regina to stop throwing fireballs."

David gritted his teeth, the grinding audible. "Fine," he said. "But I'll be watching you from here on out."

Killian watched David stride off to assist the villagers in salvaging what they could of their homes and shops. Although it stung that he had lost the shepherd's good faith, not to mention his friendship, he could not be offended. If he had been in David's place, he wouldn't have let a traitor live, much less remain with his crew. Hopefully, in time, after he proved his worth in defeating the Queen, David would look more kindly on him.

Killian opened his mouth, ready to apologize to Emma, ready to thank her, something, but movement from the edge of the forest caught the corner of his eye, and Emma blinked past him at the moving shape. His fingers touched the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it if need be, but Emma stepped to the side to get a better view when Killian turned. The shadow quickly formed into the silhouette of a man, and for a moment he was worried the Queen had sent her Black Knights to avenge her defeat—but then the moonlight showed the man was dressed not in armor but in a leather jerkin over homespun cloth in green and brown, and instead of a sword, he appeared to have a staff in his hand.

"Roland!"

The forester turned at the sound of his name being called by his father, who rushed over to clap him on the shoulder.

Killian raised an eyebrow in confusion as Emma walked over to the two men. "Robin?" she asked, head tilting in confusion. "You were here in the village all this time?"

"I arrived with your father and the dwarves," he explained. When he noticed the pinch-browed expression on her face, his own brow furrowed. "Why, is something the matter, Princess?"

"I—no, no. It's just, your prowess with a bow is legendary," she explained. "When I saw the arrow that caught Regina's fireball, I assumed it was yours."

Robin grinned at his son, who smiled back and bowed to the Princess. "It was Roland who took the shot. We felt it may be prudent to set a sentinel to watch our backs as we rushed to your aide. Ironically, he was _supposed_ to light the arrow and fire it in case of attack from the rear."

"I thought saving the girl would be a better use of the arrow," Roland drawled. "I could always rip a sleeve off my shirt and use that to signal you, had the need arisen. Thankfully for my shirt, it didn't."

Killian raised his brows, looking Roland over in a new light. He remembered that shot flying past him, the fireball meant for the bakery suddenly igniting the kindling tied to the arrow-shaft and diverting it to a different building. Even with two hands, he had never had any skill with a bow, but he recalled the distance the archer had been at, and he assumed the awkward weight of the top-heavy arrow would have made that shot nigh-impossible. Killian admired such a skill, and wondered if he had underestimated the forester.

Considering the light of approval and admiration in Emma's eye, perhaps he had underestimated him too far, Killian thought, frowning.

"That was quite a shot," she acknowledged, smiling. "One day you may surpass your father's reputation—though hopefully on the _right_ side of the law."

"Until there are fair taxes and the people have justice, there will continue to be a need to steal from the rich to give to the poor," Robin replied.

"Perhaps one day we'll both retire from being outlaws," Roland said, shrugging. "Until then, someone has to fight to make sure the poorest of the peasants are fed and protected from the cruelties of the Black Knights and the Sheriff of Nottingham's men."

"For the moment, however, we should see to those who need help here," Killian said, redirecting them to the village around them.

Robin Hood nodded. "Most of the homes and shops here aren't salvageable. They'll need to be completely torn down and rebuilt. For the time being, I've suggested to David that they come back with us to the abandoned town we're bunked in."

"That's a good idea," Emma agreed, standing straighter holding her chin high. He could almost see her pulling the mantle of Princess back around her shoulders, becoming the leader her people needed. "Try to save any supplies and tell the villagers to gather any personal items they can carry with them. We'll leave in an hour."

Killian glanced at the sky and read the position of the stars. He was surprised that there were still a few hours of darkness left. It seemed as if the night had been interminable already, and yet he was glad he would have a bit more time with Emma in her human form.

With a final firm slap on his son's shoulder, Robin pulled Roland forward to help with the cleanup and recovery for the rest of the town. Alone again, finally, Killian turned back to Emma. He shuffled for a moment, awkward now. He wanted to say so much, but pouring out his heart had never come easily to him. But what he could do was show her that he truly was a gentleman and fall back on good manners and formality. He took a small step back and nodded deeply, not quite a bow, but enough to show his respect for her. "Thank you, Swan, for interceding for me with your father. I give you my word, I'll do nothing to endanger you or yours again."

"I hope not," she said. Then she sighed and scrubbed her hands up and down her face. "I suppose I should be thanking you, too. Without this little adventure, I would have kept running from my responsibility…to Henry, to the kingdom, everything." She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Everything you said…you were right."

They moved together, both stepping out to join in the cleanup efforts. Their steps were slow, almost meandering, as they took in the extent of the damage and tried to determine where they should start, especially since he did not want to leave her, not yet. Not when she had given him such a perfect opening to ask more questions. He had to find out more about her past, how they had come to this impasse that had led to such destruction.

"What happened, Swan? What made you doubt yourself?" he murmured as they found a cart that had remained unscathed by the Queen's temper. The villagers were already starting to load the belongings they could salvage onto the bed. He hopped inside and started to shift the load to make the most of the space.

"Nothing, really," she said, shrugging, as she took a bundle from one of the villagers and tossed it up to him. "I just…I never felt like…" She glanced around and waited until they were alone again before she confessed, "I never really felt like I was what my mother truly wanted."

"From everything that I've heard of Snow White, I'm sure that can't be true," he said.

Having grown up in the slums along the dock and then been intimately acquainted with that culture as an adult, he knew full well the kinds of circumstances that would leave a woman with no wish to have a child, but that was not the feeling he got from Emma. While there was some pain in her eyes, it was not the pain of not having been wanted at all.

"It's not that she didn't love me," Emma protested, as she waved over another group of refugees with their bundled belongings. "But…she wanted a perfect little princess who wore pretty pink dresses, just like she did when she was a girl…a daughter that she could train to be a perfect queen." She shook her head. "That was never me. I preferred fighting and hunting and riding to dancing and politics. I usually ended up accidentally insulting dignitaries, and stayed mostly silent during council meetings."

Emma chuckled as she helped a little boy about Henry's age lift a sack into the cart, and Killian took hold of it, stowing it to the rear. "Everyone always said I inherited Father's tact," she continued, smiling. "And it's true. There was a good reason my mother always gave the speeches. My father and I tend to just say whatever comes to mind, regardless of whether or not it's what we _should_ say at the time." She shook her head ruefully. "Tact is just not saying something that's true and everyone already knows. It's stupid and it wastes time."

Killian had to laugh at that. He remembered their conversation that first night he met her—gods, only a few days ago. It seemed like years he'd known her. But he recalled how she continually back-tracked and corrected herself when what she said came out wrong. He remembered her saying that she had not had to be politic and genteel for a long time.

"I think I agree with you, Swan," he chuckled.

She sighed, resting her arms on the rail of the cart, and he crouched down in front of her. The laughter was gone from her face now, and her eyes were pinched, her jaw tight as she swallowed twice before continuing.

"But when you're a princess and everyone is looking to you for leadership, and _you're_ the one responsible for keeping peace between feuding factions at court, being able to say the right thing and not offend people is _important_." She leaned forward, resting her chin on her arms, and avoiding his eyes. "And that… That was my brother's forte. He knew what to say to people. Except for being able to play dress up with him, I think my mother was relieved when she realized that she had a child that was just like her."

"Aye, I know what you mean," he confessed. When she gave him a skeptical brow, he smiled, shaking his head slightly. "I had an elder brother who sounded much like your James. Perfect. Always thinking he was right—and usually being right, the arse. A natural leader, able to make others believe in him, but somehow not a ponce about it."

"Yeah, that sounds familiar," she said, nodding.

They were interrupted by a new group of villagers clamoring to stow their belongings and thanking the Princess for saving them from the Evil Queen. He quietly stowed the villager's belongings while Emma handled her people with awkward nobility. He smiled at how uncomfortable their praise made her but felt a warm rush of pride listening as she quickly and calmly soothed fears and assured them they were safe now, and she would do her best to make sure they remained so.

"You seem to do well enough," he told her once the villagers had moved off.

"I know it sounds strange but…" She shrugged. "I would be more comfortable leading an army into battle—or a group of refugees to safety—than standing up in front of them trying to decide what's the best taxing policy or passing judgment in a land dispute."

She found a rope and tied down one of the salvaged rocking chairs that teetered precariously on the side of the wagon.

"It's not the fight against Regina that scares me. It's everything that comes after it. It's…doing the tedious, hard work that is needed day after day to keep a kingdom running smoothly. It's being someone whose every decision is scrutinized. With all of the mistakes I've made in my life…I'm not sure I can live up to the standard my mother set. She was a wonderful mother and a great queen, and I'm just…me."

It boggled his mind how she could think that her actions—youthful mistakes that may certainly have been shocking to a royal court, but were hardly the shortcomings she feared—made her unworthy of her parents' esteem and her peoples' faith. Not for the first time, he wondered if his own king, now long dead, had ever had a moment of self-reflection or doubt that could have made him a better leader, that would have saved the kingdom from war with its neighbors, that would have saved Liam from death.

"Swan," he said, then paused to lick his lips and pull in a deep breath. "Might I ask you a—a hypothetical question?" He shrugged carelessly, grinning to hide the throbbing pulse he could feel in his throat. "Call it a test of your leadership abilities."

"Alright," she responded after a second's hesitation, her brows pinched.

"If you had access to…let's call it a _weapon_ which would allow you not only to defeat the Queen, ensuring she would never harm anyone again, but to destroy her forces and anyone loyal to her…would you use it?" He watched the confusion on her face edge into wary curiosity, and he continued. "It would be easy to use, transforming a single scratch from an arrow or the tip of a blade into a mortal wound. With this weapon, you could kill hundreds, even thousands of people—anyone who threatened you."

"This weapon sounds pretty powerful," she observed, frowning. Her gaze darted across his face, reading him, before it narrowed. "Does such a weapon exist?"

"Not at all," he said quickly, waving her off with a careless flick of his hand. "Merely hypothetical."

Emma's mouth flattened, and she leaned back, pulling away from him. "I'm going to let you in on a little secret, Hook. I'm pretty good at knowing when people are lying to me."

He felt a muscle in his jaw tick and he regretted even voicing the question. Forcing his breath to come in even puffs and his heart to remain steady, he shrugged. Then he offered her his most charming smile, leaning in. "Humor me, love."

Her brows furrowed, and he could see in her wary posture, almost ready to find her knife again, this time to hold it to his own throat, no doubt, that she did not believe him. But then her gaze slid out of focus as she actually considered his question. His breath caught as he watched her mind work behind her eyes, weighing the possibilities.

"It sounds like this weapon is indiscriminant in who it kills," she mused.

"Most weapons are," he replied.

"But most weapons require force behind them to kill. You have to _mean_ it. What you describe…" She shook her head, her vision clearing as she met his eyes. "Whatever you're thinking of could too easily be used to hurt people who have nothing to do with my grievance with Regina and her Black Knights. Or later, it could be used arbitrarily against anyone who _might_ be a threat—if not by me, then by someone. Once that kind of weapon is known to exist, it will become a race between all of the kingdoms to acquire it or something even more dangerous."

"That's true, but mightn't it be worth the risk?" he asked. "You must know that Regina has her supporters amongst some of your nobility. She would have been assassinated quickly after coming to power—magic or no—if she didn't have a few allies. Fear alone does not stop _everyone_ from attempting to fight back. Those allies at court or in other kingdoms—such as the ruler of Loxley's realm—will make your return to the throne difficult, to say the least. If we _are_ headed for a war, the Queen will have allies with armies to back her against your motley band of rebels. So I'm asking you again, Princess, would you use such a weapon?"

Emma closed her eyes, clenched her hands into fists, and pulled in a deep breath. "I don't know."

He waited, and she opened her eyes, murky with anxiety and doubt, and he felt his stomach clench.

"To have a weapon that could destroy my enemy quickly, saving my kingdom from what could be a long and costly war, ensuring that my forces triumphed even if we only scratched our enemies… It would be tempting to use," she admitted, nodding. "All I can say is that I'm glad I don't have this 'hypothetical' weapon. I'm glad that I don't have to make that choice. I don't know if that's the right answer, or what you wanted to hear, but it's the only answer I have."

He was unsure _what_ he had wanted to hear, but her answer allowed that knot inside to ease, and shrink, and finally disappear. She did not claim that she would never use the dreamshade poison if it came her way, if it was the only option besides a long and brutal war. But she also did not press him for details. She questioned whether or not he told her the truth about the existence of such a weapon, but she did not ask him to produce it, where to find it, how to use it. She just washed her hands of the option, glad that such a tool was not in her hands now.

"It was the right answer, Swan," he murmured, nodding.

She sucked in a deep breath, holding it in her lungs as her eyes fluttered closed, her hands braced on her hips, as if his opinion mattered to her. She let the air out slowly through pursed lips, nodding back. Then again, one quick nod, surer now as she opened her eyes, clear and once again catching the light of the moon and reflecting flashes of silver, like starlight glimpsed through a thick forest canopy.

"Does it exist?" she asked again.

He shook his head. "Not in this Realm."

She sighed. "Good. Let's leave it at that."

He couldn't help his smile, the relief pulsing in his veins like clear water after a drought. He nodded deeply to her. "As you wish."

David calling to one of the villagers, directing the man leading a panicky mule, alarmed by the smell of smoke and the night's activity breaking in its routine, to the wagon. "Let's get the mule hitched here, and as soon as everyone is ready, we'll move out. Let's get the remainder of these supplies stacked."

Emma stepped forward to hold the mule steady while the villageman prepared the harness and traces. Killian straightened up in the bed of the wagon, braced his hand on the side rail, and vaulted over. He joined Emma at the front of the wagon and grabbed hold of the mule's bridle to help hold it steady.

He looked over in time to catch Emma in the midst of a jaw-popping yawn. "It will be dawn before we get halfway back," she predicted. "And I don't know if I have it in me to make the flight today."

Killian nodded toward the bed of the wagon. "I saw some blankets and soft sacks in back. If dawn comes, we'll make a nest for you, and you can sleep on the way."

"We might have to," she said, her eyelids drooping, and only the mule bobbing its head sharply kept her from leaning her head on the animal's neck to rest.

"For what it's worth, Swan," he murmured, prompting her to open her eyes and look at him. "I think you'll be a fine queen."

The sleepy smile accompanied by a fluttering of lashes was almost, he thought, as addictive as magic.

The population of the formerly abandoned village swelled with the addition of those displaced by Regina's tantrum. The huts and cottages that had been in disrepair were being mended and rebuilt. The common lodge at the heart of the village had become make-shift hospital, childcare center, and war room. From the lower village, several of the young bucks in their teens and twenties, and even a few of the family men and women who had recovered their ire and courage now that their children were safe, had volunteered to be part of the makeshift army growing under the Swan Princess's banner.

And they were not the only ones. Word had gotten out, spread by the dwarves, the werewolves, and the Merry Men that the lost Princess of Sainte-George, the one who was destined to defeat the Evil Queen and return all the happy endings, had been found. She was gathering an army. And her people flocked to her, thankfully bringing food and additional supplies with them. They even found two blacksmiths to make additional blades and arrowheads, saving them from Killian's piss-poor efforts.

Over the next few days, David and Robin Hood organized rounds of training for their new forces. The Merry Men taught the peasants how to use a quarterstaff and bow. Those that already knew archery were sent to Robin and Roland directly to improve their skills. A few had some military experience as the foot soldiers for this lord's or that one's army. Those men, Killian and David took aside and guided them to develop their sword skills. They were up before dawn and practiced until after sunset. The muscles in his arms, back, and stomach—all of which he had previously been quite proud—throbbed and burned from strain by the time the day was over. He had not worked this hard, this steadily since his days in the naval academy, and Killian noticed with amusement that he was packing away more food than he had since he was only a few years older than Henry.

And Henry! That boy seemed to be everywhere at omce, always in the company of a few other lads his own age. He woke early to help with chores around the village, seeming to enjoy having work to do for the first time in his privileged life. During the day, he ran back and forth between the different groups in training, passing messages, watching what he could, practicing from time to time before he was called away again. Then he sat up late with his mother, David, and their counsel as they tried to devise the perfect plan for defeating the Queen. Either Killian or David had to carry the boy to his cot when he fell asleep leaning against Emma's side. And the next morning, he did it all again.

Within a week, the fighting force was becoming more disciplined and more adept with their weapons, almost as if that good magic Henry swore by was aiding them. They would never be able to combat a professional army of knights and infantry, but Killian had been the mastermind behind plenty of pirate raids. The plucky band had enough tenacity and resolve on their side to form a credible guerilla army. These humble foresters, farmers, herders, and carpenters were good and tired of a tyrant ruling their kingdom, threatening and killing their families and friends on the flimsiest provocation. They were angry and determined to take their lives and their kingdom back, never sparing a thought that they may die in the process. That kind of mentality would get them through a few skirmishes, but Killian still worried about their chance of success. The peasants' inexperience could lead to disaster if they ended up in a drawn out war with the Queen's forces.

Emma attended as much of the training as possible while she had her human form, and Killian found more and more that he had to struggle to keep his mind on his task when she joined the morning sword drills. After their return to the haven of the abandoned village, Emma had collected a change of clothes from the Merry Men. She cut quite the figure dressed in brown leather breeches, tall boots, a white shirt, and a blue doublet that made her eyes appear enchantingly aquamarine in candlelight. He tried to treat her with the respect a princess ought to receive, but he couldn't stop his eyes from appraising the tight fit of the breeches as she ran through her drills. The cut she had incurred on her hand during her fight against the Black Knights who had abducted Henry a few days earlier had now healed, but Emma repurposed his black scarf to tie her hair back from her face. Killian knew he should be annoyed, but was instead strangely flattered. He loved seeing that band of darkness in the light of her hair.

Ten days after Regina's attack, Killian brought his dinner to the long table in the town hall that made up the war room and settled in to listen to David and his unofficial generals once again try to formulate a plan to defeat Regina that would not lead their fledgling army to their certain deaths. From the beginning, they agreed to give up breaking Emma's curse before facing the Queen. David and Emma both hoped that with Regina's defeat—read "death"—the curse would end, though Henry still brainstormed, hoping to come up with an alternative.

He felt eyes on him from across the table and looked up from his meal to find Emma considering him. He raised his brows in question. She raised her chin, seeming to come to a decision, but Killian could not read what it was before she turned to face her father.

"Hook mentioned something to me," she announced, drawing everyone's attention to both her and him. He swallowed a bite of roasted carrot and tried not to squirm under scrutiny, instead flashing the assembly a dashing smile.

"He said that we're a motley band of rebels," Emma continued, "and that Regina is going to have an army behind her. He's right. We can't let this escalate into an all-out war. We have to defeat her in one quick coup that doesn't allow her forces to have time to muster. Whatever we do, we have to succeed in one attack, or we might not get another chance. We can sort out who our enemies and allies are later."

"I doubt there are many who are _actually_ loyal to her," Grumpy scoffed, laughing with his brothers. "Who would want to serve the Evil Queen?"

"Those who are evil themselves, generally," Killian drawled, and found himself once again the focus of the room's attention. He gestured widely to those around the room. "Everyone here is part of this little insurrection because of their own desires—whether it's for peace, for a return to a time of lenient government, or for a separate agenda that includes the Queen's downfall." He shrugged. "The same can be said of Regina's supporters, no doubt."

"Luckily, those who would be truly loyal to Regina are few and far between," David said. "Regina's politics are as capricious as she is. She's just as likely to turn on her allies as she is to attack her enemies."

Looking around the table, David nodded to his daughter. "Emma is right. If we can make one quick and unequivocal strike, we should be able to galvanize our supporters within the nobility and isolate those who were loyal to Regina with relative ease."

"We were operating under the assumption that the Queen was housed in Sainte-George castle," Killian reminded them. "Do we still believe she's there?"

"I could fly reconnaissance for us tomorrow and find out if she's still there or if she's moved back to the Dark Palace," Emma offered.

"Either way, our best plan will probably be to attack at night," Roland proposed. "Darkness provides the best cover for a sneak attack."

David nodded. "Snow and I used a similar plan when we attacked Castle Sainte-George the first time to oust old King George. A similar attack may work+ now. Red?" He looked to the woman at his right. "Would your wolves be able to take out the external guards?"

Red nodded.

"Now we just need to figure out how to get into the castle itself," Emma muttered. "I doubt the front gate of either castle is going to be undefended, especially not now that Regina knows I'm coming for her."

"What would prompt the guards to open the gate without question?" Robin questioned. "If we seem to have something the Queen wants, I think they'll be less likely to try and stop us from walking right in the front door."

"We could pose as merchants delivering supplies," Roland suggested, shrugging. "It's worked before."

Henry planted his hands on the table in front of him and stood up, eyes wide and intent. "It's me! She wants _me_. We can use that to get in—I can be bait."

"No," Emma said right away. "Not happening. You'll be staying right here in the village. If I could send you to another Realm to wait this out, I would."

"I can help!" Henry insisted, looking across the table to meet Killian's scrutiny before he turned those earnest brown puppy eyes to his grandfather. "The guards at either castle will recognize me. And if there are 'Black Knights,'" he said, pointing to each of the adult men around the table, "escorting me in, they'll take me—and whoever's with me—right to Regina."

Emma was shaking her head, but Killian thought the lad's plan was sound, and it was no riskier than the other escapades Henry had engaged in so far in his quest to defeat his adoptive mother. "I think the lad is on to a good plan," he said.

"And how would he explain showing up again after we fought off a group of Black Knights to save him, huh?" Emma demanded.

"I could say that you weren't what I expected, and I don't want to be with you anymore," Henry suggested, rolling his lips between his teeth in thought. "Or that I want to do what's right for the kingdom, and I'm willing to come home as long as Regina promises not to hurt anyone else."

"And it's not like the guards on duty would recognize us," Grumpy pointed out. "Those helmets have mesh inside that hides the face of whoever wears it. You put one of those on, you can waltz right in."

His brother—an older, spectacled dwarf with a creaky voice but quite the aim with a pick-ax—nodded along with Grumpy, adding, "And we could guard your escape route, in case things go wrong."

"I don't like the idea of involving Henry in this," Emma protested, although the slump of her shoulders and the soft, worried look in eyes told that she knew this was the best plan they could come up with, even if she did not like it.

"He's already involved," Killian reminded her gently. "Knowing Henry, he'll likely tag along behind us if we try to leave him behind."

He raised an eyebrow at the lad, who grinned back, nodding. Killian shook his head, then turned and shrugged at Emma. She flattened her lips in annoyance, but she could hardly argue her boy would do no such thing since Henry had proven time and time again that he would face almost any odds to do what he believed was the right thing.

She snorted. "Running headlong into danger apparently runs in our family," she muttered. Then, on a resigned sigh, she said, "Okay, so we sneak in with Henry's help. Regina could still launch a magical counter-attack. How do we withstand that?"

"And that," Killian said, standing up as he tossed his napkin onto his empty plate, "is where I can provide some assistance."


	15. Forward Momentum

**Disclaimer** : I do not own _Once Upon A Time_ or the characters or settings therein. This is a work of fanfiction created for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made from this story.

 **A/N: Borrowing a plot device from the television mini-series "The Tenth Kingdom" with respect and love.**

Also, if you want to know who I've mentally cast as some of the supporting characters, I've cast Dianna Agron to play to play Princess Alexandra. As Roland, I've cast Diego Boneta. And if you want to see a 47-year-old (Cinder)Ella, look no farther than the incomparable Emma Thompson.

 **Chapter 15: Forward Momentum**

* * *

Killian stepped outside the commonhouse and took a moment to just enjoy a deep breath of summer night air, thick and balmy with the tang of balsam from the conifers surrounding the village and the sweet watery scent that drifted up from the mill pond at the edge of the village. He heard footsteps behind him and found almost the entire party from the war room, though only Henry had the excited light of comprehension in his eyes.

"Are you going to call for the fairies?" the boy asked.

"The Rhue Goram's secretary did say she would assist us when we were ready to attack the Queen," Killian said. "Time to find out if it was an empty promise."

"When did you make contact with the fairies?" Grumpy asked.

"It was on the way to find my mom," Henry explained, smiling up at her.

Killian met Emma's eyes for a second, her eagerness and hope a mirror of her son's. She watched him with wide eyes and almost on her toes in anticipation. If he failed at this…well, he couldn't fail. Killian licked his lips and turned his attention to the sky.

A high wind and favorable weather meant that the sky was clear, and a hundred million stars arched overhead in the Night Bridge that spanned the darkness and the thousands and thousands of outlier stars nearer the horizon. It was a peaceful sort of chaos, and on another night, Killian would have loved to stand on the deck of the Jolly Roger and gaze out into the dazzling darkness. But now, he the heavy dread that he would disappoint his on-lookers—Emma and Henry most prominently—pressed on his chest, and he had to force in a deep breath.

That night in the woods when he and Henry had just set out on their quest, the thick snow-filled clouds had obscured most of the sky, only revealing the area that housed the fairies' stars. Not so, tonight. Tonight there were so many stars visible that he did not know to which he should direct his plea. A bubble of panic lifted from his stomach, and he feared he could stand there all night and not find the one he wanted.

"Which one was it?" Henry asked, coming to stand beside him and craning his neck up to search.

"I, uh…" he fumbled, his hand suddenly up at his neck, his finger itching behind his ear in what he knew was his worst tell. He forced his hand back down to his side and cleared his throat.

"It was something of a fluke that we found the star in the first place," he admitted. And worse yet, "I don't recall where the Blue Star might be."

From the corner of his eye, he saw Emma come stand beside him as he kept his eyes on the heavens. She said nothing, but when he glanced over, her face was tilted toward the sky, and her brow was creased. A moment after, Henry joined them so that the three of them stood in a line.

"Let's retrace our steps," Henry suggested. "What were we doing right before the fairy showed up?"

"It had been snowing," he recalled. "We hunkered down to wait it out, and you suggested we try wishing hard, even without the stars visible."

Henry nodded, his face pensive. "So I started wishing that the Blue Fairy would come and help us find the missing Princess." He looked up at Killian. "What did you wish for?"

He thought back to that night in the woods, to the biting cold, the wet snow, the two of them huddled under the hanging boughs of a tall pine. Henry had squished his eyes shut, wishing as hard as he could, and Killian had…Killian had thought back to a time when he had been worthy of a fairy's aid. He swallowed now, wishing anew that his life had been different. Perhaps if his father had not abandoned him, or if Liam had listened to his warnings about the dreamshade, or if he had stayed aboard ship with Milah when they made port in Hamlin, his life would have continued on with honor or at least with hope.

He flicked a glance at Emma standing beside him, the soft light of the fire from inside the commonhouse casting her face into shadows except where the starlight and a slim crescent moon highlighted her cheekbones, forehead, and pale lashes.

In the weeks since that night in the snow-covered forest, he had found the Princess, defeated a contingent of Black Knights, and ultimately decided to dedicate himself to the defeat of a powerful and malevolent enemy, delaying his revenge in favor of helping Emma. Was this not, at the very least, a small step back toward honor? And hadn't the fairy suggested that such a thing was possible?

Turning his eyes back to the sky, it seemed impossible that he had missed the sparkling lavender star glittering overhead, shining from a shadow in the Night Bridge. Unlike before, he did not close his eyes but kept them open and focused on that light. He wished with a surprising ache of longing that Nova's insight was true, and the man of honor he had been was still inside him, able to reemerge.

A soft hum and the sound of tinkling chimes filled the air, and a bright ball of pale purple light bobbed down from the heavens as if a star had in truth decided to descend. Killian felt a smile pull his mouth wide, and a knot that had wound around his lungs released, allowing him to breathe deeply.

"Hello again," he greeted the fairy as soon as she was visible inside her ball of light.

"Hello to you, too!" she said, smiling. "I knew you'd call me again. I might not be much of a fairy, but I'm getting better at picking out the people who just need a nudge in the right direction from the true lost causes—and _you_ are no lost cause!"

He felt his cheeks heat in the cool night air, and he was glad for the darkness that hid the color as he itched the shell of his ear. "Thank you for that, I suppose," he muttered. "I called to ask you if you still intend to help us defeat the Evil Queen. As you can see, we found the Lost Princess." He gestured to Emma, who came forward to meet the fairy.

"Pleased to meet you," Emma said.

"Oh, Princess, we've already met!" Nova gushed. "You don't remember, of course. You were only a baby, after all. But we did meet, and I tried to give you a gift—I mean, it was your naming ceremony, it's traditional—but Blue stopped me. Probably a good thing or I might have turned you into a bed-knob, or a broomstick, or a cat. What I mean is, it would have probably ended badly. I'm glad to see you again, though!"

"And mostly human," Killian couldn't help adding, earning him a sharp glance from Emma.

"Well!" Nova chirped. "A promise is a promise. I can have the fairies ready to fight in a day or so. I already have the Blue Fairy's approval. We're forbidden to use lethal magic, of course, but we can use our magic to send our enemies to sleep for a few hours or to relocate them deep into the Infinite Forest. That should buy you some time. Just tell me where we need to be, and we'll be there."

"We're hoping to head out in soon," Emma explained. "If Regina is in Castle Sainte-George, we should be ready to attack in three or four days. If she's back in her palace in the north, it will be a few more, but no longer than a week. I want this over."

Nova nodded, bobbing up and down in the air as she hovered, and the crystalline aerials in her hair jiggling with her movement. "Good! That-that…woman-of-questionable-virtue-and-parentage has had her comeuppance, well, _coming_ for a very long time!" The light around her seemed to strobe with excitement, little sparks of purple and white floating around her like dust in a sunbeam. "The fairies will be ready and waiting for your signal."

"Great!" Henry exclaimed, bouncing. He seemed almost as excited as Nova. "So what's the signal?"

Nova's face fell, clearly having forgotten that part, and Killian could see Emma roll her lips together as she flicked her gaze to the ground, trying to contain a laugh. He covered a short of his own with a cough behind his fist, and then cleared his throat.

"We're trying for subtlety, so it will have to be something discreet."

"What if we just chose a time of night and coordinated the attack then?" Emma suggested. "Say, nine 'o'clock? I know Castle Sainte-George has a bell tower that chimes the hours, and I'm sure the Dark Palace will have a similar method of marking time."

"Ahhh," Henry cooed, nodding sagely. "Using the enemy's tools against them. I like it."

"Nine 'o'clock it is!" Nova concurred.

The sound of shuffling came from behind them, and Killian and Emma both turned to find Grumpy walking forward with halting steps, placing each foot carefully on the ground before him as if it were ice, and he was afraid he would fall through. His hat was in his hands being wrung out of shape. And on his face was the softest, most open expression Killian had ever seen on the surly dwarf.

"Hello, Nova," Grumpy said, his voice as hesitant as his step, but filled with an aching wonder, and Killian had a sudden insight into the heart of Emma's gruff "uncle."

"Hello, Dreamy," Nova responded, her high voice almost a whisper, her excited violet dust turning silver and falling from her like snow.

 _Dreamy?_ Killian mused, forehead creasing as he looked at the dwarf. He had heard that dwarves took their names from their dominant characteristics, but he could not imagine a more inappropriate designation.

"It's Grumpy now," the Dwarf replied in a tone that was sweeter and softer than Killian had imagined it was possible for the abrasive dwarf to produce. "I'm glad to see you've kept out of the reach of the Queen and the Dark One. I…I worried about you."

For a moment the glow around the fairy brightened, illuminating the entire street with light that mimicked the sun, causing Killian to squint. When he could see past the dancing spots in his vision, Nova was human-sized, her wings nowhere in sight. Her eyes were too wide and innocent for Killian's taste, but he acknowledged that she was lovely. And the expression on her face when she looked at Grumpy was every bit as tender as the dwarf's.

"I've worried about you, too," she admitted. "It's good to see you again."

Grumpy stepped forward, licking his lips before rolling them between his teeth. "Can we talk?" he asked, and then glared at the crowd of onlookers. "Alone?"

"I'd like that," Nova said, smiling as she nodded.

The dwarf straightened his shoulders and tugged his hat back onto his head. He offered the dainty fairy his arm, and the two of them strolled down the road in the dark, murmuring intently to one another.

"Huh…" Emma mused. When he looked over, she was shaking her head and staring off after her uncle and his lady, shaking her head. "I always knew he became Grumpy because of a broken heart. Never thought I'd meet the girl."

"A broken heart makes everyone grumpy," Killian joked. "But I'll take this as a good sign. Not only do we have the support of the fairies in our fight, leveling the field in terms of magic; we've also witnessed what I hope is the first of many happy endings returned to the land."

"Hey!" Henry exclaimed, grabbing his mother's hand as he looked up at her. "Hook's right. That's the first one! I mean, aside from me finding you, that is."

Emma chuckled, running her free hand over Henry's hair to cup the back of his head. "I didn't actually do anything. Grumpy's doing all the hard work."

"You made it possible," Henry insisted.

"Think about it," Killian prompted. "If Henry had not recruited me into his quest, then we would not have met the Lady Nova, who answered _my_ call. She agreed to help us should we find you and mount an attack on the Queen. And without her guidance, we would not have set out to find the Dark One, who then directed us into the very valley in which your godmother's pack lived. We were only able to contact the wolves because we ran into your father on the way to the Dark One's castle. Red knew where the dwarves were hiding out, and found them in time to help us rescue Henry from the Black Knights. And now that you have agreed to fight for your throne, we've called the fairies in to help, unintentionally reuniting two lost lovers. Quite a string of coincidences, Swan."

"If you say so," she murmured, shifting her shoulders and frowning.

He had to smile at how uncomfortable she appeared with her role as Savior. It was amazing how little Emma seemed to want her various roles, taking so many of them on under duress—princess, commander, savior, returner of happy endings. The only one she embraced was that of mother. He could not decide whether he found that charming or irritating. Her stubbornness continuously caused him to want to shake her, especially since she had proven over and over how amazingly capable and competent she was when she finally did accept her calling.

"Well," David interrupted, causing Killian to start and finally stop staring at Emma, which he realized belatedly that he had been doing. "Looks like we have our army. And tomorrow, after you fly reconnaissance for us, we'll know where we need to attack."

"What about the curse, though?" Emma worried. "What if defeating Regina doesn't break it? What then? Am I going to change into a swan every day for the rest of my life?"

"You could start a new fashion, Swan," he teased her. "You could turn your court completely nocturnal."

David and Emma shot identical glares at him, and he grinned.

"Yeah, because that would go over _really_ well," Emma muttered.

David wrapped his arm around his daughter's shoulders, pulling her toward him in a side-hug. "If your curse isn't lifted, then we'll think of something else to break it. If nothing else, we can capture Regina again, and this time Snow's not here to stop me from doing what needs to be done," he concluded with a hard, look in his eye that promised violence to the woman who had torn his family apart.

Killian always knew he liked the shepherd.

Emma sighed. "Mother wouldn't condone torture," she insisted. "I can't start… _my_ reign with unnecessary violence." Then she muttered, "That doesn't mean we can't kill her and search her library, though."

"Wait," Henry said, stepping away from their huddle. "You don't really mean you're going to kill her, do you?"

Killian winced. Apparently the boy had a different interpretation of the word "defeat" than the adults did. He had always assumed that their coup would result in Regina's death, but clearly Henry was shocked at the notion.

"I would have thought you would want her gone, with the way you talk of your upbringing, lad," he said.

Henry shook his head violently. "I want her to stop hurting people, but I didn't…I don't want her to die. Heroes don't kill."

"Henry," Emma murmured, crouching before him and holding his smaller hands in hers. "Regina is very powerful, and even if we manage a sneak attack, we're still going into a battle. Anything could happen. Anyone could get hurt or killed." She rubbed her hand up and down the boy's arm to comfort him when his breath hitched. "This isn't like your stories. This is real. The odds that Regina will allow herself to be captured alive are pretty slim."

All true. No need to point out that when a magician died, unless he or she was very powerful or unless the magic was anchored somehow, the magician's spells would end.

"But…" Henry protested, his forehead creased and every muscle in his thin body strung tight in anguish. "But can't we at least give her a _chance_ to change?"

"Henry," David sighed, resting his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Your grandmother tried that once. Regina turned on her within seconds of being released from her cell and tried to kill Snow _again_ , this time with a dagger to the ribs. I'm sorry, but she will _never_ change."

"Remember, Henry, she's not known as the Evil Queen for nothing," Emma said. "Even if we captured her alive, she would be tried for treason and the murder of countless people. The penalty for that would be death."

Henry looked completely crestfallen. "Even so… it has to be a fair trial. You have to do this the _right_ way. You can't just kill her. That would be murder, too."

Killian watched Emma close her eyes and take a deep breath. "We'll do what we can to give her a chance, but I won't make any promises to you, Henry," Emma said. "I'm sorry."

She sighed, looking up at her father and Killian as if they had answers. Killian deeply wished he did, but the only one he could provide would come from centuries of anger and hatred for his own enemy, and that called for death. Regina's execution would solve a multitude of problems, personal and political, but Killian doubted Henry, with his pure young heart, would see it that way. After witnessing the destruction Regina created in that little village, he knew that the woman was a villain, and there was only one way for the coming battle to end.

Not receiving whatever comfort or backup she was looking for, Emma stood up and tried to smile at Henry. She wrapped her arm around the boy's shoulder much the way David had held her own moments ago, and said, "Come on. I'll take you to bed. I'll have to leave early tomorrow. If you want to be awake to see me off, you'll need to get some sleep."

Killian ran a hand through his hair as he watched Henry and Emma go. After all of the things that Henry had said about Regina, he was somewhat surprised that he had defended the woman, but perhaps it was more than that. Perhaps it was Emma and her status as Savior and a hero in his eyes that Henry wanted to save. Heroes don't kill people, he had said. Heroes don't murder.

What did the lad call war, then? What did he call the slaying of dragons or Black Knights or trolls? But Killian knew that if Regina died by assassination, Henry would never forgive Emma. In that light, Killian was willing to kill Regina himself so that Emma could honestly tell Henry that she had nothing to do with it. He had no illusions about his own heroic status.

* * *

Emma flew out the next morning as soon as the spell took hold of her. She was gone for a full day, and every second she was out of his sight, Killian felt his stomach coil tighter in fear. He had to stop every hour to calm his racing heart. He went from menial task to menial task, packing his satchel, cleaning his weapons, unpacking it to make sure he had everything, running practice drills, repacking his bag, over and over simply to keep his mind off all the terrifying possibilities that could have befallen Emma in her swan form as she scouted the Queen's whereabouts. His only comfort was that David and Henry were just as distracted. They each caught the other staring at the sky throughout the day, searching for an incoming speck on the horizon, and gently guided the other to some new chore to keep his mind off the wait.

The night she did not return was one of the longest of Killian's life. Sleep evaded him entirely as he sat on the edge of his bed in the cottage he had claimed, and he cursed himself repeatedly that he had emptied the last of his rum over Emma's hand to clean her wound. A thousand scenarios played in his head as he waited for the sun to rise.

Finally, just after noon the next day, the loud trumpet of a swan echoed through the trees. Killian stopped in the middle of a practice lunge at one of the army volunteers and turned to scan the sky. When he saw the flash of a white wing, he bolted down the dirt road toward the mill pond. Within moments, he was joined by most of the village, everyone cheering as Emma came in for a wet landing, her wings beating furiously over the water as she settled in.

He joined David and Henry as they approached the side of the pond, and grinned when David scolded her, his hands on his hips. "As soon as you are back in human form, you are going to explain why you're home so late, young lady."

The swan honked in reply and ruffled her feathers at him, craning her neck up in indignation—completely feigned, Killian was sure. Even in swan form, Killian could see the sparkle of humor in her eyes.

"Glad to see you back safely, Swan," he told her, and finally returned to his cottage to sleep away the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

Henry ran in to wake him as soon as the sun set, and Killian joined the war council in the commonhouse as soon as he'd wiped the sleep from his eyes and splashed cold water on his face.

"I stayed with Ella yesterday," Emma was explaining when he walked in. "Once I confirmed that Regina is still at Castle Sainte-George, I stuck around to count the number of knights and any new fortifications she added to the castle. I mistimed my return, and the sun was setting before I could get back. Ella's estate was close, and she allowed me to stay with her for the day."

"How is she?" David asked.

"Well enough," Emma reported. "And better yet, when I told her what's going on, she said she would help. Ella offered her estate as a staging point for our invasion." Emma pulled one of the ubiquitous maps strewn across the table toward her and pointed to an area the Eastern Kingdom shares a border with Sainte-George. "There's a magical shortcut from the forest around Ella's home to a point only a mile away from Castle Sainte-George."

One of the dwarves—Doc, Killian thought—leaned over the map and drew his finger along the mountains that separated their village from the estate of Princess Ella. "There's a loop here, too. If we go through this pass, here, the loop should let us out almost on the Princess's doorstep."

"Then I say we have a plan," David concurred. "We can leave the village tonight and break into smaller parties as we head down the mountains. We'll be less conspicuous that way. Then we can all meet up at the manor house to regroup. Robin, you can head one group?"

The thief nodded, planting his hands flat on the table as he studied the map.

"Good. Grumpy, you can lead the dwarves and a group of the villagers?"

The dwarf snorted. "Can a duck swim?" Then he glanced at Emma. "No offence."

She rolled her eyes.

David divided up the rest of the group, naming leaders and who would travel when. Killian would stay with David, Henry, and Emma. As soon as everyone knew their routes and who they would lead, David nodded. "Let's get this moving. I want us out of this village by midnight. No more waiting."

The men and women needed no more direction. They broke and strode out the door, calling to the make-shift militia that had amassed in the last few weeks. Killian stayed behind only long enough to fall into step with Emma as she and Henry made their way outside.

"You know, Swan," Killian mused. "Ever since finding you, we've all become semi-nocturnal. I don't think it would be as much of a challenge for your future courtiers as you think."

"Shut up, Hook."

* * *

Even leaving at midnight, the magic of the forest deposited them within sight of a palatial manor house before dawn. Killian found he was not even surprised that they covered hundreds of miles in hours. Henry had insisted that good magic existed to counterbalance the dark magic of Rumpelstiltskin and the Evil Queen, and indeed, since Emma appeared to have some power of her own, Killian was finding it easier and easier to believe that such a thing did exist. They reached the stately home built of warm honey-colored stone with a multitude of high windows and several chimneys just as the sky was turning pink. Killian's group, led by Emma and David, the latter carrying a sleeping Henry, had rejoined Robin, Roland, and the Merry Men an hour before. Together, they trooped down the long lane that lead to grand double wooden doors.

Lamps were already lit inside, and before they reached the gravel courtyard, two women strode out to meet them. They were already dressed for the day in high-necked pastel gowns, relatively simple in comparison to some of the ball gowns Killian recalled from his days in the navy. As they approached, Killian saw the resemblance between them that marked the two as mother and daughter. Though the older of the two had delicate lines on her face and wore an expression of chronic anxiety, both were fair-haired and slim. Each had an oval face with a straight nose and a stubborn chin. As they got close, the younger woman grinned, picked up her skirts, and ran to meet Emma. Emma broke from their group and jogged forward to meet her. They threw their arms around each other when they met in the middle.

"Emma! Oh, Emma, it _is_ you!" the woman exclaimed, rocking the two of them back and forth.

"Lexa!" Emma greeted her. "How have you been?"

Roland leaned over to murmur to Killian, who was staring at Emma and her friend, as well, "Two beautiful women embracing… I'm glad we decided to join you lot, or I'd have missed out."

Killian snorted. He had been thinking something along the same lines himself. Almost simultaneously, the looked at the older men like naughty boys worried about being caught by their fathers.

"Fine, I'm fine," Lexa said. "Well, comparatively, I'm sure." She pulled back and looked at Emma, searching her friend's face. "Mother told me you stayed here with her years ago. Why didn't you send word? I would have come."

Emma shrugged one shoulder and ducked her head. "I knew things were tense between you and your grandfather. I didn't want to add to the strain. And with Regina looking for any excuse to attack my parents' allies, it was too dangerous. I'm sorry."

The two women continued talking, and Killian leaned toward David to ask, "Old friends, I take it?"

"Mm," David hummed in confirmation. "Emma and Princess Alexandra were born within a few weeks of one another. They've been good friends since they were little girls."

By then, the older woman, Princess Ella, had reached them, her hands outstretched in welcome. She greeted David with a smile that lit up her face, although the lines of strain between her brows remained. When she spoke, her voice was melodic and smooth. "David…I can't believe it. I was so pleased when Emma told me you were alive and you had found her."

David took Ella's hands and bowed over it briefly before reaching out to squeeze her shoulder gently. It was hardly the warm embrace he had shared with Red, but it was far from the distant pleasantries he might have expected. Killian made a note of it and wondered if all royalty knew one another, or if there were something special about these two kingdoms that had made them so close.

"Ella, it's wonderful to see you again," David said. "And I'm incredibly grateful that you've opened your home to let us launch our battle from here."

"Of course!" Ella assured him. "Emma was right when she said that Regina looks for the smallest reason to attack her neighbors. My father-in-law has been able to keep her at bay so far, but I live in constant fear that one day it won't be enough. I don't want my daughter to have to deal with the aftermath."

Emma and her friend finally rejoined the group, though they kept their arms entwined and leaned into one another as if they each drew strength from the contact. Emma turned to her friend when she heard Ella's remarks, and frowned. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, but how did you know to be here at all? I just left here yesterday."

"It was the Dark One," she admitted, with a glance at her mother.

"What?!" Ella gasped. "You didn't say. Alexandra, are you—?"

"He didn't hurt me, or threaten me," she reassured her. "He just said that if I ever wanted a chance at meeting my father in this lifetime, I would make sure to come and bring something that will help Emma get into Castle Saint-George unseen."

She slid her arm from out of Emma's and maneuvered her bag into her hands. She untied the ribbons of her purse and pulled the mouth of the bag wide so that she could reach in. From the bag, the Princess lifted a pair of transparent glass dancing slippers by hooking her fingers into the toes of the shoes.

"The Dark One enchanted them so that when you put them on, they turn the wearer invisible. It's how I got out of the palace to come here, so I know they work," she confessed with a proud smile. "They can also hide someone who is holding onto the wearer—but only one or two people at most."

"Did you test that, too?" Emma asked.

The Princess shrugged. "I wasn't going to travel through the forest _alone_. I brought a pair of guards with me."

"Even one or two extra people our enemies don't know about will be helpful," David said.

"Though it's a touch worrisome that the Crocodile is offering his help," Killian muttered.

"He did say he'd nudge from behind the scenes if we could get ourselves here," the shepherd pointed out.

"Pardon me," Roland said to Lexa. "Did you say, if you wanted to _meet_ your father?"

She nodded, sharing a sad look with her mother, explaining, "He was taken from us before I was born."

"I'm sorry," Roland said. "My mother was taken from us by Regina before I could make any real memories of her. I would give anything to see her again."

"They say that you can't miss what you never had," the Princess said. "But those that say it have probably never felt the longing for something that was stolen from them before they knew the value of it. I've missed my father my whole life."

"I've thought the same thing myself, many times," Roland commiserated.

The two shared a look of sympathy, and Killian felt the rise in tension prickle across his neck and politely looked away. Ah, that first moment of attraction and understanding. The truest magic Killian had ever experienced.

He caught Emma's eye, and they both raised a brow in silent comment on the new development. But before he could make a no-doubt witty comment, a bird perched on one of the eves of the manor began to sing. Only then did he realize how light the world had gotten, the shadows of night retreating around them.

"The sun is nearly up any moment," Killian observed.

Emma heaved a sigh and stepped away from the group. "I guess I'll see you all tonight."

"Remember," David said, "we'll be setting out this afternoon, and we'll infiltrate at dusk. You come in from the air at the castle, then transform and meet us inside."

"I remember," she said, waving them off. She bent down to kiss Henry's head, and then the sun came up. As soon as the first golden ray appeared above the horizon, swirling purple mist surrounded her, and when it cleared she had returned to swan shape. Emma shook her feathers, flapping her wings for a moment before resettling them along her back.

"Emma, your place at the pond is waiting for you," Lady Ella told her. "I already had fresh straw added, and a bowl of grain and greens is waiting for you. And I'm sure the rest of you are tired as well. Please, come in. I have the men here on the lookout for the rest of your people to arrive throughout the day."

Killian followed the Princesses inside the manor, looking forward to a soft bed. But he looked back, watching Emma waddle away toward a glimmer of light on water to the west of the house, feeling let down that he would not be within sight of Emma for most of the day. Even so, the excited itch of anticipation for the upcoming battle prickled under his skin, and he pushed aside his loneliness and went to find his bed.

* * *

 **Post-Chapter Note:** I know, I'm a horrible author for leaving you hanging for so long. Summer was rough. But I'm hopeful to get off my keester and finish posting sooner rather than later. I can't believe I started posting a year ago!

Also, remember back in chapter 13 when I posted that big warning about Regina? Yeah, go back and read that. Things don't get any better for anyone from here on out. Except maybe for Alexandra and Roland. Yes, I have just founded the RoLex ship, always assuming it didn't exist before now.


	16. Alea Iacta Est

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Once Upon A Time_ or the characters or settings therein. This is a work of fanfiction created for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made from this story.

 **Author's Note:** Oh my gosh! Look at where we are. The battle is about to commence! Also, today's chapter title brought to you by Julius Caesar. Translation: "The die has been cast."

 **Chapter 16:** Alea Iacta Est

* * *

The sun was still high when David called the troops together. The militia army they had acquired and trained in the last few weeks had trickled into the manor throughout the day, and Lady Ella had graciously provided places for everyone to sleep for a few hours. Killian saw thick, down-filled cushions and pillows, and heavy duvets piled in the floor of the large dining room and salons as he made his way outside. Their hostess had also provided a hearty lunch of thick-cut meats, savory cheese, fruit, vegetables, and brown bread.

Killian joined the men and women who had volunteered to fight on the front lawn of the manor, listening while David went through the plan and everyone's duties again. He stifled a sigh, knowing that this endeavor needed to be flawless if they were to succeed, but the interminable preparation and endless repetition was one of the things he had been glad to leave behind in the navy. Piracy was much simpler: attack the other bloke and take his money.

From the bored expression on most of the faces of the Merry Men, they felt the same. Except for Roland, who appeared to be tracking the Princess Alexandra as she assisted her mother and the servants as they handed out handkerchief-wrapped provisions. He would have made fun of the younger man, but Killian soon spotted the white form of Emma-swan settled into the shade of a tree, Henry beside her with his arm slung over the swan's back, and Killian found himself trying to judge what the swan was thinking as she inspected her troops. Was she pleased with the turnout? Did she think they were ready? Her swan's face was impossible to read, but from the way her head moved constantly, allowing her a full view of the rows of fighters ready to head out, he thought she was pleased with what she saw.

He glanced around the contingent as well, and allowed himself a smile at how far these men and women had come in so short a time.

"The first group leaves now to clear our way," David announced, calling Killian's attention back to the proceedings at hand. "Red, you're clear to take your pack. Clear as many of the castle guards and patrolling knights as you can."

"Can you maybe not kill _all_ of them?" Henry called out. "Some of the knights are okay. They just needed a job, and, well, being a Black Knight does keep the Queen from killing your family, usually."

Red smiled at the boy. "We'll do what we can. Anyone who willingly stands down, we'll spare. But if they fight back, my people _will_ defend themselves."

Henry nodded, frowning, and slumped back. Killian felt for the boy. He had survived several battles, but clearly he had not allowed himself to think that the opponents they fought had been real people, and their deaths were permanent. It was quite a moral quandary for the lad, and one that Killian hoped would not scar his optimism and faith in humanity. Those qualities were far too rare, and when Henry eventually did take the throne after his mother, optimism and faith would ensure that he would be a beloved king.

Red, Jeb, Link, and Fay led the way into the forest followed by the dwarves. The wolves had their extraordinary strength and speed to aid them in the fight, but knowing that the Black Knights could be armed with silver, each also carried a short dagger to help them block an attack. The dwarves were each armed with their pick-axes and an assortment of mining tools—hammers, shovels, and spikes—that could be converted into weapons. According to Lady Ella, the magical loop was only a quarter mile into the trees, and it would deposit them within easy distance of Crystalline Lake and the castle.

"Emma, you'll need to leave soon, as well," David reminded her. "Since you won't have the advantage of traveling the magical loop, you'll need to have as much time as possible today to make the castle by sunset."

Emma opened her wings slightly to signal Henry to let go. Once the boy scooted back to sit cross-legged in the grass, she waddled to her feet. Killian backed up a pace and nodded to her.

"Good luck, Swan," he said. "We'll see you soon."

She nodded her long neck, and then tossed her head to indicate that they move away. Once a space had been cleared, she started her run-off, and in a moment, she was in the air and gaining height. Killian felt his chest tighten as he watched her go, and the muscles in his neck stretched with tension. He chalked his anxiety up to battle readiness, but he kept his eyes on Emma's form until she had disappeared behind the trees, wishing he could call her back.

"Hook," David called his attention back to hand. "I see you aren't ready yet."

Killian scanned the trappings worn by David and Roland. Both were in the blackened armor and chainmail of Regina's fallen knights. The three of them were designated to escort Henry to the castle and breach the walls to allow their forces entrance once the battle began. Killian flat-out refused to wear one. He had killed the knights who wore that armor, and he knew the disadvantages that came with being weighed down by dozens of pounds of hammered and braided iron.

"Sorry, mate," he apologized, shrugging. "I've an allergy to official uniforms. Besides, if I stand in the back, one all-black ensemble looks much like another in the dark."

David sighed.

"At least take a helmet," he grumbled, tossing Killian one of the plumed helms the Black Knights were known for. Killian scowled at the ridiculous headwear. It looked like a black chicken, half plucked. It was doubtlessly as uncomfortable as it looked—heavy, hot and with a tendency to slide about. Besides, it would hide his devilishly handsome features, making it practically a crime to wear the thing.

"I'll carry it until we reach the castle," he decided. Henry snickered at the look of disgust on his face, and Killian raised a brow at him to share the joke.

David rolled his eyes, and turned to the rest of the advance guard. Roland's face hardened into angry, determined lines, his square jaw tight, and his eyes shone with suppressed violence. The dark clothing and armor he now wore complemented the thief's new look in a way that the browns and greens that had allowed him to blend into the forest never could. He tugged on the black leather gloves and adjusted the gauntlet around his wrist as Killian watched.

His father stood with Mara and Tanner. Robin had insisted on joining them in the first wave to infiltrate the castle. He still wore his forest camouflage and carried his bow. The quiver was slung across his back. He and the wolves would be both scouts and secret back-up, for Mara would be wearing the enchanted slippers, allowing the three to slip inside behind David, Roland, Killian, and Henry.

Killian watched Robin adjust the fit of his leather gloves, lacing his fingers together to ensure a snug fit at his knuckles and palms. His breathing was deep, but a bit fast, and Killian frowned. He flicked a glance at David, who had apparently also noticed, as he frowned at the thief.

"Robin?" David prompted. "Are you ready for this?"

He pulled in a deep breath, filling his lungs, and nodded. "For my wife, yes." He licked his lips, nodding again. "Yes."

"Roland?" David asked.

Roland clenched his jaw and gave one sharp inclination of his head. "For my mother."

"Alright," David conceded. He turned back to the rest of the waiting troops. "Then Little John will lead the second wave out at dusk, and the Fairies will join us shortly before midnight."

"Princess Alexandra has also offered the guards she brought with her," Roland reported. Killian raised his brow and smirked at him, noting the slight reddening of Roland's ears. But to give the man points, he did not fidget or try to explain why the Princess made the offer to him and not to David.

"I did," the lady in question confirmed, joining the huddle of men. She was dressed in a pretty, albeit simple, yellow dress, complementing her milk-and-honey coloring. Almost as one, the gentlemen bowed a greeting, Killian included, though he kept his eye on the interaction between the Princess and the young thief. Princess Alexandra acknowledged each of the men with a general nod, but kept her gaze on Roland. "I wanted to contribute something more to the campaign than just a pair of shoes and wrapped sandwiches."

"The shoes will be put to good use, and food is always appreciated," David reassured her.

"Even so," she said. "I may not be capable of fighting alongside you, but at least my guards can. And if the Dark One and the prophesy about Emma is correct, this may be my only chance to ever save my father." Her eyes filled and she rolled her lips between her teeth as she pulled in a deep breath. "I've always felt horribly guilty…I always felt like it was _my_ fault he was taken. The Dark One wanted _me_ …"

"Don't think that," Roland told her. "The Dark One is the only one to blame. He took your father. He is the guilty one."

"He usually is," Killian muttered, but it was clear neither one was paying attention.

Princess Alexandra smiled at Roland. "Thank you for that, but it doesn't change the way I feel. So please, take my men. Defeat the Evil Queen, and save Emma from her curse. Then perhaps she can help me bargain with the Dark One for my father's release." She glanced around the circle and offered a last nod. "I hope to see you— _all_ of you—back safe and victorious."

"And with that, I think we'd best head out," David said.

* * *

Once again, the Infinite Forest—if it truly did possess some sentience of its own—seemed to look kindly upon their cause, and in a few hours, they reached the pebbled beach of Crystalline Lake, and Killian found himself looking up at the imposing, white-washed castle backlit by the crimson and orange of the setting sun. The sky in the east was already dark and sprinkled with stars, and the west was burning with the last light of the sun as heavy purple clouds boiled over the horizon. Smoke curled from several of the tall chimneys, but most of the windows were dark, even with the encroaching night.

"Either no one is home, or the Queen is stingy with her candles," Killian mused.

"Probably the latter," Roland muttered.

"Mother doesn't keep a court at any of her castles," Henry explained, his own voice barely above a whisper. It was as if all of them were afraid the Evil Queen would hear them, even from the lakeside. "She'll do whatever she wants, whenever she wants, without input from a council of morons, and she's not about to hand out honors or accolades to a lot of imbecilic toadies."

"Good," David murmured. "That means we won't have to worry about collateral damage."

He led the group deeper into the woods surrounding the lake. The land rose up sharply from the beach until it joined the rocky outcrop upon which some ancient king or queen had built the paved causeway. All seven of them were out of breath by the time their boots touched the paving stones of the road—even the two werewolves. Poor Henry, with his shorter legs, had fared the worst. Killian steered him to a convenient tree stump and urged him to sit.

"Rest a bit. We've a few hours until the fairies join us."

Or until Emma could reach them. Even knowing that it would be a longer journey for her, that the magical shortcuts only existed under the ancient, towering trees and within the ground saturated by centuries of sorcery, not high in the air above them, he kept scanning the forest looking for the pure white form of a swan. They had only been separated for a few hours, but already he missed her. Which was both pathetic and troubling, and not something he wanted to dwell on with both her father and her son about and a battle looming ahead.

Time crept on. The last light of the sun faded from the west and the clouds that had been amassing on the horizon crept over the twinkling stars visible through the leaves every time a gust of wind forced a window through the canopy to the heavens. David kept a silent vigil through the trees, staring at the home that he had once shared with his family. Tanner, Mara, and Roland took turns wandering through the trees to ensure they were not being tracked by the Queen's men. Robin, thankfully, pulled out a deck of cards, and entertained Henry with a quiet game. Killian played for a while, but the itchy anticipation that crawled under his skin made it impossible for him to sit still and concentrate for long. He strained to hear any sound that might announce an ambush, but no sound came from the forest around them except for the occasional chitterling of a bat. He supposed that meant that the wolves were doing their job and clearing the forest of any Black Knights.

At last, the gonging of huge bells run out from the castle announcing the time. Nine echoing reverberations. It was time.

Mara pulled off her boots and slipped into the sleek glass slippers. As soon as her second heel settled into the cup of the second slipper, a shimmer of silver mist and sparkle swirled up from her toes, and where the magic touched, suddenly the woman was gone. Killian felt his brows fly up to his hairline, and he stifled a gasp. A slight distortion of the trees and undergrowth behind where Mara stood was the only indication she moved, presumably raising her hand.

"Whoa," Henry said.

"This is a very strange feeling," she reported from seemingly empty space.

"I'm…glad to see they work," David said, cocking his head this way and that, as if by changing his perspective, he could distinguish Mara's form through the sorcery. Satisfied that she was truly invisible, he nodded. "Robin and Tanner, I guess all you have to do is keep hold of her, and you'll be fine. Let's move out."

Tanner waved his hand about until he hit his packmate, prompting a growl from the lady wolf. An invisible grip on his flailing hand caused a new stream of sparks to engulf Tanner, and then he, too, was gone from sight. Robin was gentler, carefully placing his hand on Mara's shoulder until he disappeared, as well.

David and Roland, dressed in their stolen uniforms, took the lead with Henry between them, and Killian, rolling his eyes, donned the feathered helmet and fell into step behind them. Now that the hour was upon them, time seemed to speed up. It felt as if they only walked for a few moments through the darkness made deeper by the growing cloud-cover before they reached the tall portcullis at the castle gate.

"Identify yourself," the castle guard ordered when they approached.

"We found the young Prince," David reported, pulling Henry—who was doing his best to look meek—forward to show the man. "Let us in so we can deliver him to Her Majesty."

"Are you sure it's the right one this time?" the guard muttered sourly. "The last two were just some village brats sold off by their families hoping for a reward. The Queen was _not_ happy."

David snorted. "Unlike some of those incompetent idiots, I know Prince Henry when I see him."

Killian gave credit to both David and Henry's performances. David tugged Henry into the light of the torches with just enough care so that the guard would not be able to report to the Queen that he had been rough with the boy, but forcefully enough that it was clear this was an unwanted duty. Henry, meanwhile, shrank back while simultaneously angling his face into the light. He even offered the guard a tiny smile and a limp wave.

"Hi, Tom," Henry greeted him.

"Hello, Prince Henry," the guard—Tom, apparently—returned. "The Queen will be glad to see you returned." He turned and began cranking open the gate.

"I thought you were on tower duty," Henry observed.

"Her Majesty was _very upset_ that Gibbs and Marlow let you get past them," Tom said, weighing the words with enough meaning that Killian understood that Gibbs and Marlow would not be a problem for them tonight or any other night.

"Oh," he sighed. This time, when Henry shrank back into David's side, the emotion was real.

As soon as the portcullis boomed into place at the top of the stone wall and the second guard looped the rope in place to keep the iron gate from crashing down, Tom waved them inside. He turned his back to call to another guard patrolling inside the baily who had come forward at the sound of the gate opening that Prince Henry had returned. But before Tom could get more than a word out, he lit up with a bright pink puff of magic powder and dropped to the ground. The second guard jerked in surprise, reaching for the hilt of his sword and pulling in a deep breath. But he, too, was engulfed in pink sparkles and fell clanking to the flagstones.

Killian quirked a brow, his own hand on his sword. He was sure there was going to be a scuffle, and his heart still pounded with unused adrenaline. Everyone look up and found the tiny, glowing form of Nova, hovering before them with her wings buzzing in excitement and a wide, almost savage grin on her piquant face.

"Nice!" Henry complimented her, grinning.

"He'll be out for hours," Nova assured them. "Go! We're working to take down the rest of the guards."

Killian craned his neck to look around the inner bailey, and laughed when he spotted several more brightly colored puffs of magic illuminating distant corners of the yard followed by the clatter of armor hitting slate. He hoped no one inside noticed the ruckus.

Inside the bailey, save for a prone guard or two, the area was completely clear. There were no stalls along the outer walls to house the artisans and craftsmen needed to support a castle of this size—bakers, tanners, blacksmiths, chandlers, carpenters, wainwrights, farriers, hell even armorers. Nothing. Killian could see the empty braces in the stone walls where wood beams had likely been in times past, and many of them were blackened with soot where the wood had burned away, but the supporting community for the castle was long gone.

The clicking echoes of Mara's glass shoes on the paving stones behind them made the silence of the castle even more pronounced. Mara's common upbringing was clear; she had no idea how to step lightly in the glass heels so as not to make noise. It increased the unease tightening Killian's shoulders and making ropes of the muscles in Killian's arms. He knew that there were at least three people in the castle watching him that he could not see—Mara, Robin, and Tanner following invisibly behind—but knowing made him wonder if there were others watching.

Apparently he was not the only one. He drew his sword, using his hook to remove the ugly helmet from his head. David and Roland followed suit, each glancing around them to scan for guards or Knights left awake as they hurried across the open space to the shelter of the castle's second wall, Henry jogging to keep up with the longer strides of the men.

"Is it always this empty?" Killian asked the boy.

Henry shrugged. "I told you the Queen, doesn't like company."

As they approached the wall to the inner bailey, another flare of fairy light came from the high wall above as the fairies took down another guard. One man already sat slumped at the base of the wall, snoring softly, a faint periwinkle shimmer coating his black helmet. Even so, they edged quietly past him into the inner bailey, each man scanning the area for anyone still awake and likely to accost them. The flagstones in this court yard were blackened unevenly, a further testament to the blaze that David had once said burned through the castle during Regina's attack. The Queen did seem to love fire. He could almost still smell the charred wood.

As in the outer bailey, the space here was completely barren except for two notable features. The first was a circular hearth made of pure black basalt that simultaneously meshed with the burned stone and appeared completely foreign. Embers glowed from inside, but the light barely made it out of the high walls of the hearth.

In front of the west wall, the second feature stood. It, too, was black stone, but it glistened like glass. Obsidian, Killian guessed. Sharp, black volcanic rock that shone from within, illuminating the features shaped from the stone. It was a statue of Regina in full court dress, an imperial crown on her head, face triumphant and proud, and holding in her hand a huge ruby carved into the shape of an apple. Beneath the figure was mounted a silver plaque. As if it had some magical power, it drew Killian, David, and Henry close. He heard David's breath hitch and rasp as they read the engraved message in the light of the sorcerous fire from within the rock.

"Here lie the bones of the traitor Snow White,

charred black by dragon fire

in righteous retribution

for the wrongs she committed in life."

David gripped his sword tightly, took a step back, and Killian saw he was about to swing the blade at the statue. The shepherd had tears in his eyes, and the muscles in his jaw jumped as he tried to restrain the cries he was barely choking back. Killian swallowed down his disgust at the Queen's gloating and the horror that David had seen it. He placed a hand on David's arm, pulling the sword down before he swung.

"Not now, mate," he murmured as gently as he could. "Save your anger for the battle. We'll care for your wife's remains after we've defeated Regina."

"He's right," Robin's voice whispered from behind them. "I know _exactly_ how you're feeling right now, my friend. But destroying the statue _now_ would cause too much commotion, and surely the Queen would come to investigate."

David pulled in two quick breaths, and Killian briefly tightened his grip on his friend, letting the other man know he was there. He understood exactly what David was feeling, but he also knew that now was the time to focus. He had to hone that anger. Killian was guilty enough of letting his temper get the best of him, but only when he was at a dead end and feeling helpless. They had a plan. They needed that rage contained for now.

"I swear to you," Killian swore. "Once we've defeated Queen Regina and freed Emma, I will help you topple the damn statue myself."

"We'll make sure that Grandmother has a perfect place to rest," Henry assured him. "Somewhere nice, with lots of flowers and birds."

"But first, Regina," David rasped. He pulled in three deep breaths, and rubbed his knuckle under his eyes. He nodded to Roland, who reached out to pat his shoulder.

They made it through the courtyard and into the castle easily. The fairies had proven to be competent vanguards, and the few guards that had been posted were unconscious under a sparkle of fairy dust. Once inside, they climbed a stone stairwell that in daylight probably glowed white, and seemed to shimmer under the illumination of the torches burning in sconces along the walls. At the top was a huge hall that had clearly been designed to impress. The vaulted ceiling soared twenty feet above Killian's head, and two parallel rows of tall windows that in the day would provide a view down into the inner bailey and just over the top of the outer walls where. Currently, the huge gold and glass lamps set in the narrow wall space between the windows, provided additional illumination as the low-burning flames reflected off the glazing, turning the windows into dark mirrors. Outside, occasional lightning flickered in the distance, allowing Killian to see past his own image into the night.

But aside from the reflections of Killian, David, Henry, and Roland stalking the flesh and blood men, the halls were clear. Oh, there were a few statues of the immortal beasts of the Infinite Forest done in marble, precious metals, and gems; several additional statues of Queen Regina in various poses, both regal and battle-ready; and the requisite ancient suits of armor from long-dead knights of the realm, but no guards, awake or asleep. Empty corridor stretched before them.

"Where are all the interior guards?" Killian wondered.

"We don't normally have many," Henry explained. "Who would try to attack the Evil Queen in her own castle? Besides us, I mean."

A new noise—the sound of hard-soled boots running toward them—spun Killian around, sword raised, Roland and David with him, accompanied by the sound of Mara in her glass slippers tugging Robin and Tanner aside. But Emma, dressed in her blue doublet and black canvas trousers, emerged at the top of the stairs. She stopped, almost skidding on the polished floor. Her eyes widened in surprise at seeing the swords drawn on her, and she held up her hands, now encased in a pair of long grey gloves he did not recall her acquiring.

"It's me! I just got here a few minute ago."

Killian sighed, allowing his shoulders to slump, as David and Roland allowed the points of their swords to lower. Once she was no longer faced with a trifecta of sharpened steel, Emma walked forward and stopped in front of her son, resting her hands gently on his shoulders.

"Henry, are you alright?"

Henry nodded, smiling up at her. "Yeah, I'm fine. We ran into some guards outside, but the fairies took care of them. We haven't seen anybody inside yet."

"Good," Emma said. "Then let's go. We still have to find Regina and make sure this is ended once and for all."

"We aren't killing her, though," Henry insisted.

Emma stopped, leaned down over her son, and took his face in her hands, smiling softly at him. "Of course not, Henry."

Killian met Emma's eyes over Henry's head, but something is off. Instead of feeling drawn in by her, as he always had before, he felt no connection at all. He had expected to share a look of dismay that Henry still believed there was a peaceful resolution with his adoptive mother, but Emma's soft reassurance to her son sounded genuine. Had she had a change of heart? Had she thought of a bargaining chip on her flight that they could use to coerce the Evil Queen?

She reached down and took Henry's hand, leading him further into the echoing chamber, not sparing a second look at her father or Killian, and his sense of unease deepened. There was an almost indistinguishable sway to her step. Emma seemed eager for the fight to begin, and far more confident than she had been the night before, as if she had a secret weapon that none of them knew about. But then, he supposed that now the time to face Regina was upon her, she could be experiencing the adrenaline rush prior to the start of combat. And despite Henry's hopes, he felt the crackle in the air around them that preceded a battle. He had known this feeling for all of his adult life, and the approaching storm outside is doing nothing to settle his nerves. A distant growl of thunder rolled over the castle sounding like an approaching predator.

As they neared the center of the vast hall, David turned his head to glance about, and whispered, "Are you three still with us?"

"We're still here," Robin assureds him from the apparently empty space behind them.

David paused, causing the rest of the party to stop. "Mara, could you and Tanner shift into wolf form and track Regina by scent? It would save us having to search all over the castle for her."

"Not tonight, we can't," Tanner scoffed.

"What?" Killian demanded, his hand tightening on his sword even though he only had a vague idea of where the invisible twat lurked in the darkness, hidden by the Crocodile's magic.

"It's the new moon," Mara explained. "Any other time of the month, we could change into wolf form, though it requires more concentration as the moon wanes. We still have our sense of smell, our speed, and our strength, but the dark of the moon is the one time we're stuck in human form."

And Emma…

"Emma is the reverse of a werewolf," he said, stating the bloody damn obvious. She would be stuck as a swan. And if Emma was forced to remain a swan tonight…

No!

His ears started ringing, and his stomach churned. He nearly gagged as his whole body went cold. David and Roland realized the same thing in the same instant, and they all rounded on the false Emma with swords drawn. David lunged forward and pulled Henry put of her grasp, pushing him behind him, and Killian stepped closer, shielding the boy from the back as his grandfather protected him from the front.

"Emma" laughed with a sensuous shrug of her shoulders, throwing back her head and raising her arms. A brief swirl of dark, violet smoke rose up over her head, staying close to her body, and when it cleared a racing heartbeat later, Regina stood before them dressed in a body-hugging velvet gown, the one strand of silver in her hair rose over her left eye like a dramatic punctuation. For an instant she was illuminated by the flash of lightning outside—closer now followed almost immediately by the accompanying boom.

The sound of metal on metal drew their attention to the statues along the corridor before and in back of them. The presumed empty suits of armor clearly had inhabitants, and those statues of chimera and griffons melted away to reveal even more armed men. Twenty Black Knights had their swords out and held ready to attack. Their leader, a tall man with dark curly hair who did not bother to wear a helmet but did boast a quiver on his back and a bow slung over his shoulder, held up a hand to signal them to halt before he stepped closer to the Evil Queen, his sword drawn but pointed toward the floor.

They were surrounded. Damn and bloody hell. Killian pulled in a deep breath and forced the lump in his throat down.

"Mother," Henry breathed.

"Hello, Henry. When I've taken care of this little problem, you and I will be having a _long_ discussion, young man."

* * *

 **Post-script:** This chapter used to be longer, but that was such a perfect place to stop. Just remember, I've been warning you all fic that this is a slightly darker take on the Enchanted Forest we've seen on the show. Also, yes, that Black Knight at the end there is exactly who you think it is. More from him next chapter.


End file.
